


Erebor Restored

by Isileil



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: AU, Book cannon is secondary to movie cannon, Everybody Lives, Fix-It, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:10:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 63,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isileil/pseuds/Isileil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lonely Mountain is reclaimed. Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli recover from their wounds while Dáin makes himself at home. A Fix-it fic because I grew too attached to fictional characters and couldn't let them die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Kíli reached for consciousness he was overwhelmed by what greeted him. The world was over-bright and harsh sounds grated at his ears. He thrashed where he lay, trying to bring his surroundings into focus. A lilting voice cut through the fog of his mind, and a soothing hand was laid on his brow. The words were foreign, but the voice was familiar, and he let himself fall back into oblivion.

The second time Kíli could remember waking he opened his eyes to a darkened room. The stone ceiling above was new to him, but the smell evoked memories of his childhood. He had never been a particularly careful child, always more preoccupied with whatever adventure he had been on at the time. He tried to remember now why he should be waking in a healer's bed. His sluggish mind sifted through recent events. The battle, Fíli falling, Bolg, and...

"Tauriel." Kíli struggled to raise himself up as her name passed his lips.

"I see how it is," came a sleepy voice from the next cot over. "Not even a thought for your dear brother?"

Kíli focused on the figure rising next to him and was laughing with relief as his brother closed the distance and reached for him. They embraced for a moment, both relishing in the fact that the other had survived before Fíli pushed him back to lie down.

"But how?" Kíli shook his head in disbelief, confusion plain on his face. "I saw you fall."

The elder Dwarf lit a lamp on the bedside table and turned it down low before he made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, one leg on the cot and facing his brother. "Aye, and I've had a bit of a limp since then, but it gets better by the day."

"And Thorin?" He made to sit up again and with a huff Fíli moved to help him.

"Driving Óin mad at every available opportunity." It was said with exasperation and a fond smile as he propped his brother up with pillows. "The King Under the Mountain will not suffer to be confined to his bed."

Kíli smiled at the image that evoked. "And the others?"

Fíli nodded, settling back again, "All well. It seems that we three took the brunt of it in our company." He looked to the Dwarves laying in the beds around them. "Not all of Dáin's men were so lucky."

Silence hung between the brothers for a moment. He desperately wanted to ask his next question, but was afraid of what the answer might be. "And Tauriel?"

Fíli leaned back on his elbows with a grin, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. "Who?"

As much as he loved his brother, Kíli was in no mood to be tormented. "You know exactly who I'm talking about," he demanded.

"Ah yes. You're lady love," the blond Dwarf teased with a chuckle.

Kíli could feel his cheeks heating and his anxiety begin to dissipate at his brother's light hearted manner. Surely he would not jest if the answer were dire.

Finally his brother gave in and with a tilt of his head put the younger Dwarf's fears to rest. "She is here. In the mountain."

"Where?" Kíli's eyes searched the long hall as if she were to be found hidden in the shadows.

"Sleeping I would imagine," Fíli's playful tone turned sardonic, "like all those who have any sense about them."

He was the furthest he could be from sleep and pushed himself further up on the pillows. "Has she asked about me?"

"Go back to sleep, brother," Fíli pleaded half-heartedly, though Kíli was certain the other Dwarf knew that would not happen anytime soon.

The young Dwarf huffed, as petulant as a child, and crossed his arms over his chest for emphasis. "I've been asleep for what feels like ages." He relaxed again as a new thought occurred to him. "How long _has_ it been?"

His brother cocked a brow and said in mock seriousness, "Nearly seven days." He continued on in a lighter tone. "That really is quite impressive. I believe you now hold the new record for time infirmed."

Kíli kicked at his brother's leg and then winced as the movement twinged the wound in his side.

Fíli sat up in concern. "I should let Óin know that you're awake. Thorin too."

He waved away his brother's worry. "I want to see Tauriel." At the doubtful look he received, he pressed on. "I _need_ to see her."

Fíli shifted on the bed and looked away without responding.

The apprehension from earlier returned with a vengeance. Kíli's voice was soft when he asked, "Where is she?"

Fíli still would not meet his gaze when he answered. "She spends her days here, helping Óin." The next was said with a forced cheer, "And mooning over you, of course."

Kíli refused to be diverted. "And where does she spend her nights?"

"You must understand," Fíli started vehemently. "When she came to the gates covered in blood and you in her arms, no one knew what to think."

"Fíli."

Ignoring his brother's warning tone, Fíli pressed on. "At first, most presumed that you were dead, and she, a messenger of Thranduil sent to gloat. Dáin wanted her head right then and there, or so I've been told. It was Bofur who spoke for her first. Who argued that she had saved your life in Lake-town."

"Fíli!" What little patience Kíli had was slipping away. A loud snort and a grumble came from a bed in the darkness.

His brother waited until the sounds of snoring once more filled the air before answering in a hushed voice. "You know as well as I there is only one way that Dáin would welcome an Elf into Erebor. And with Thorin still unrecovered from the battlefield it was his voice the people were following." Fíli met Kíli's gaze and finally answered with a sigh. "The dungeon. She spends her nights in the dungeon."

**********

The pair would have made quite the sight, if anyone had been around to see it. Two hunched figures stumbling down the majestic corridors of The Lonely Mountain. One, a Dwarf who could barely keep himself upright, being all but carried by another with a hobbling step. Their hushed voices carried over the polished stone floor as they bickered.

"Thorin will have my head if he finds out about this. I ought to take you straight back to your bed," Fíli threatened as they began to descend the last stairway to the dungeons.

"But you won't, because you know I'll just come back on my own." Kíli couldn't keep the smug tone out of his voice and he leaned a little more of his weight on his brother's shoulder as punishment for suggesting that they turn around. "I may fall and break my neck, and then what would you do?"

Fíli huffed in annoyance. "Get a good nights rest I'd imagine." Despite his words, they continued on without pause. "And just what do you plan to do at the end of this journey, oh Obstinate One?"

Just a few more steps would put them back on flat terrain again, and that much closer to Tauriel. Kíli tried to quicken their pace and the two nearly tumbled down the last of the steps.

"Easy there, brother," Fíli cautioned as he steadied them both.

Kíli nodded his thanks and they started off again.

"What do you think I'm going to do," Kíli answered. "I'm going to get her out."

An unfamiliar shadow filled the arched doorway leading to the dungeon proper, blade in hand gleaming in the light. "Who goes there?"

Both brothers drew themselves up to full height as they reached the nearest torch and could be seen.

"Master Fíli, Master Kíli," The guard said in surprise. He sheathed his sword and gave a quick bow. "Wha' are ya doin' 'ere?"

Fíli cut off his brother's, no doubt, colorful answer. "We've come to check on the prisoner."

A second guard joined the first scratching at his beard as he inquired, "'s a bit late for tha', ins' it?"

Losing patience fast, Kíli pushed away from his brother and, using the wall for balance, made his way past the guards. He trusted his brother to take care of the nuisance.

The cells of Erebor had been empty for many years now and dust was still thick on the bars as Kíli approached the nearest chamber. His brother's voice faded to the background as his hands wrapped around cold iron. There, sitting on a half decayed mattress, was Tauriel. She was a vision, even in her filthy surroundings. He could see her eyes light up as they found his and then dim again in terror as he sank to his knees.

She called his name and was at the cell door in an instant. The journey here had cost him much of his energy and he relished in the reprieve that sitting brought.

Kíli's smile was wide and bright as he looked at the Elf kneeling on the other side of the bars.

"You should be in bed," Tauriel admonished, as she laid her hand on the side of his face.

"How could I," he started, moving one hand to press against hers where it lay on his cheek, "when I learned that you were here?"

Kíli watched her fight a smile and delighted in it.

She pulled her hand away, but did not release his grip, settling both hands in the space between them. "I am fine. And it is only in the night when there are fewer eyes to watch over me."

Kíli's smile dimmed. "You shouldn't need to be watched at all."

Tauriel tilted her head. "I understood the conditions when I entered the mountain, and I agreed to them."

"But that was Dáin's bargain." Kíli could feel the anger at this injustice rising within him. "Has Thorin had nothing to say on this matter since then?"

Tauriel began to respond but stopped and spoke to the Dwarf behind him instead. "The king is on his way, I presume?"

It was Fíli's voice that answered in the affirmative. "Your jailers have run to wake the mountain. It is no small thing that you are awake brother." He smirked at the pair kneeling hand in hand. "I'm to be your guard for now, so no funny business."

Kíli nodded, ignoring the jibe, before turning back to Tauriel. "Thorin will fix this," he promised her. "There is no reason for you to be jailed like an enemy when you are the furthest thing from it. You do not belong in here. He will understand."

Tauriel gripped his hand tighter for a moment but there was doubt in her eyes.

Fíli shuffled to the nearest wall and leaned upon it to take a bit of the weight off of his leg. "Don't mind me," he waved a hand at his brother, "Shouldn't you be waxing poetic by now?"

Kíli shot his brother a look of bewilderment. "What?" He looked back to Tauriel for an explanation and was surprised to see a blush stain her cheeks.

"It would seem that your tongue gets away from you," she spoke quietly, as though divulging a great secret, "when you are delirious."

Kíli gave her his most charming smile, the one that never failed to win over the maids of Ered Luin. "Oh?"

She smiled softly and looked at him through her lashes. "That's twice now. Will you always need to be out of your mind to spin me such sweet words?" she teased.

"My lady," he began and brought her hand up to lay a kiss on her palm, "I would spend the rest of my days on the edge of delirium if it would but make you smile."

Fíli groaned but the two only had eyes for each other.

Kíli pressed their joined hands against his heart. "Kurduimê (My heart)."

For a moment, he was certain she was about to respond in kind, but instead Tauriel pulled away and he could see her closing herself off. Kíli feared that he had pushed for too much, too quickly. Her eyes flickered to the doorway and she stood back from the bars. It was then that Kíli could just begin to hear the sounds of booted feet on the stairs and he sent her one more soft look in the hopes of laying to rest whatever fears those steps had brought.

Kíli struggled to rise and Fíli pushed from the wall to help him. Both were standing, shoulder to shoulder and heads held high as Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, made his entrance. Even in a night robe their uncle still carried a regal bearing and they dipped their heads to him as he drew near.

"Kíli, it is good to see you awake," Thorin allowed a small smile, "but could you not have waited until the morning to seek out new trouble?" He laid a hand upon Kíli's shoulder before pulling the young Dwarf into an embrace.

Kíli grunted at the impact but returned the grasp just as tightly. "Sorry, but this could not wait until the morrow," he insisted, pulling away to face the elder Dwarf once more. "There has been a mistake."

Thorin heaved a great sigh and paced away from his nephews. When he turned Kíli could see that his uncle was not of a like mind. "I know what you will ask, and the answer is no."

Righteous indignation rendered Kíli mute before he began to stutter in denial. "How can you- I don't understand- you can't be serious!"

Thorin shook his head and made his way back to them. "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss the matter."

A considerable racket could be heard approaching, but Kíli had no care for what the noise might bring. "Now is the only time to discuss this," he insisted, "Tell me, why must Tauriel reside in the dungeon?"

Thorin glared down at his nephew. "Is it not enough that your king commands it?"

A pile of Dwarf bodies filled the doorway as a mixture of familiar faces and new stumbled to a halt. Those of Thorin's Company were eager to greet their newly healed comrade and those of Dáin's men were curious to see what the excitement was about, but none wanted to enter when they saw the scene playing out before them. Kíli spared a glance at his friends before scowling once more at his uncle. "This is how you would repay one who has saved the life of your kin?"

A buzzing could be heard from the onlookers, gasps and grumbles. Fíli spoke up to head off the clash that was brewing. "Does the light of the sun truly make a difference in a mountain?"

The look Thorin sent towards Fíli would have pierced Mithril and the blond Dwarf lowered his eyes.

Kíli could see that he had lost his ally but was determined not to back down. "This is wrong and you know it."

Thorin turned to him again, "Do not presume to tell me what I know, boy."

There was another clatter from the hall and Dáin appeared next, pushing his way through the masses. "Wha's the meaning o' this?" He demanded.

Thorin's eyes closed for a moment in agitation before he turned to address the irate Dwarf. "My nephews were just about to return to their beds."

"Well that's not going to happen," Kíli responded immediately and he heard Fíli groan in exasperation beside him.

Tauriel spoke up for the first time since they had been interrupted. "I will be fine," she moved back to the bars and lowered her voice. "Kíli, go. It will be sunrise soon enough and the matter will wait until then."

Dáin spoke up again, "She's _my_ prisoner and I'll thank you to remember tha'."

"She is _my_ prisoner as she is in _my_ dungeon." Thorin's voice boomed throughout the long hall, "All of you, OUT! Back to your beds."

Fíli took hold of Kíli's arm to help him on the journey back, but Kíli shook off his brother's hand.

"I am NOT leaving her here!" He planted his feet and tried not to ruin the effect by wobbling.

No one made a move to leave as they all waited to see what would happen next.

"Dwalin," Thorin called, "Would you escort my young nephew back to his bed?" His tone was courteous, as if he had not just been yelling a moment before. "It seems he is still out of sorts and not thinking clearly."

The large Dwarf gave Dori and tap and a nod and both broke free from the crowd. Kíli looked on wide eyed as they brushed past Dáin to hook one of his arms each. He ignored Dori's soft entreaty to leave and tried to break away from them. He could tell that the two Dwarves were trying to be careful with him and he fought all the harder for it, a roar of anger tearing from his throat. It was not until he heard Tauriel's voice again that he paused in his efforts.

"An ngell nîn, mell nín (Please, my beloved). Go with them." Kíli looked up to see the Elf pressed to the bars, her normally stoic features were twisted in distress. "Do not hurt yourself struggling."

The fight drained out of Kíli and he allowed the two Dwarves to drag him away. He held Tauriel's gaze until he was pulled out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The literal translation for 'An ngell nîn' is 'for my joy'. All Sindarin and Khuzdul words are courtesy of Google and more time than I will admit to spending on research. If you catch a mistake, please let me know.
> 
> Also, I have only watched each movie once and at the time of release, so I have had to rely solely on the clips that I can find on Youtube. Again, if I make a mistake, you know what to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Dwarves have always been known to be resilient creatures, but Fíli was certainly feeling his lack of sleep as he trudged through the Lonely Mountain. Though he had returned to the cot beside Kíli the night before, his brother had not stopped railing at the injustice of the world long enough for either of them to find rest. The thought of a full-sized bed and a quiet room had almost been enough to drive the blond Dwarf to break the promise that he had made. That first day, before the sun had set and the Wood Elf had been escorted to her cell, he and she had made a pact; that she would watch over Kíli while he was away helping to clear the battlefield, and he would stay by his brother at night, when she would be unable to do so. It had been surprisingly easy for him to accept her presence in Erebor after he had seen how much his brother meant to the She-Elf.

As he made his way now to Thorin's chambers, Fíli wondered on what it would take to convince the other Dwarves to accept her as well. It was clear to him that she would not be leaving his brother's side by her own will, and he did not like the thought of his brother leaving if she were not permitted to stay. He had purposely set out early that morning to avoid the ruckus Kíli was bound to make when he first saw Tauriel outside of her cell. He had no doubt that his brother would be outraged to see the Elf in shackles and chains.

Fíli slowed as he reached his destination, trying to arrange the thoughts in his head to best suit his purpose. From the other side of the door, muffled voices could be heard. Though he had been raised better than to eavesdrop, when he heard his brother's name, Fíli lowered his raised hand and cracked the doors open a sliver to better hear what was being said.

"Let the boy have his fun. He'll soon grow out of it."

Fíli's brows rose at the sound of Balin's voice and he smiled at the thought of another ally in his endeavour.

Thorin gave a doubtful laugh before answering. "It is not as simple as you would make it seem, old friend." His voice, though soft, still carried through the doors. "I may be King by right, but my hold on this mountain is tenuous at best. Until the caravans from Ered Luin begin to arrive, Dáin and his kinsmen still out number us. Now is not the time for me to show weakness."

Fíli frowned and Balin's voice was a reflection of that sentiment. "Have we come so far, that now kindness is seen as weakness?"

Footsteps in the distance alerted Fíli that he was soon to be found lurking and he knocked on the doors before pushing his way through. The two were stood by the room's large hearth and both sets of eyes rose to meet his as he entered.

Balin moved away from Thorin and towards the door. He stopped as he reached Fíli and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Perhaps you'll have a bit more luck, laddy."

Both nephew and uncle waited until the chamber was sealed again before speaking. "I've come-"

"I know why you have come," Thorin cut him short. "What I want to know is why you think that you may speak for your brother, now that he is awake and may speak for himself."

Fíli lifted his head high, trying to project a confidence that he did not entirely feel. "I thought perhaps if you knew all that had transpired before the battle, you would rethink your decision about Tauriel." Fíli held his breath. How Thorin responded next would determine if there was any chance of swaying his uncle.

Thorin turned to rest an arm on the mantle and gazed into the fire. If Fíli had not known the man better, he would have wondered if he was being dismissed. At length the older Dwarf faced him once more and nodded for him to proceed.

"You know that she saved his life in Lake-town," Thorin nodded again and Fíli continued. "Did you know that she defied her king to be there? And that she has been banished for it?" He was pleased to see that revelation draw a reaction from his uncle, small though it may have been. "If you choose to exile her from the mountain as well, it is not to the forests of Mirkwood that she would return, but much farther. I believe whole heartedly that my brother would follow her."

Thorin acknowledged his words and, after a moment, spoke. "It is not in our nature to forgive so easily, and there is much that the Elves have to be forgiven for. Even amongst our own Company there are those who would be happy to see the She-Elf gone."

"They will learn," Fíli urged, "as I have learned."

Thorin's look was not convinced. He drew his hands behind his back and paced the length of his chamber in slow steps. "And you would dismiss Dáin and his clan so quickly? They are not so reasonable as the Dwarves of Erebor."

"I would have them see reason," Fíli spoke with conviction, "or I would have them withdraw."

Thorin spun on his heel and Fíli realized that he had made a mistake.

"Then you would lose us this mountain," Thorin's voice thundered around the room. He lowered his volume but not his intensity. "We have dreamed of retaking our home from afar, but those of the Iron Hills have watched dragon smoke curling from Dwarven halls for just as long. They have not traveled as you and I have traveled. They have not mingled with the other races for trade and survival. They will not understand."

"But why does it matter," Fíli pressed. He would not lose his brother to the stubbornness of others, kin or no kin. "Dáin is not king here, and his people have their own home. Why are they even still here?"

Thorin dismissed him with a wave. "That is not for you and I to discuss. I will take care of Dáin. There is other business to be attended to."

Fíli fought the urge to persist in his argument, knowing that it would be futile.

Accepting his silence as acquiescence, Thorin began pacing again. "Though our cousins from the Iron Hills have been gracious enough," the last was said with a sneer, "to stay and help us rebuild, I believe it would be wise for us to reach out to the Men of Dale. They have the numbers that we do not, but lack the skills that we have in abundance." He turned and Fíli met his uncle's gaze from across the room. "I would have you take as many of Dáin's men as he can spare and go to Dale. Find the Lord Bard and offer our services to him." There was more to this than Thorin was letting on, Fíli was sure of it. "You will bring with you the treasure that we had agreed upon in Lake Town and tools enough for our men and theirs. In exchange, we ask only that should the need arise, the Men of Dale will stand with the Son's of Durin."

**********

The stairs to the dungeon were much more easy for Fíli to navigate while not carrying the weight of his brother. Though the light of day never reached this far into the mountain, more lamps had been lit to give the effect of daylight. He nodded to the guard as he passed; another of the Iron Hill Dwarves, and not one that he recognized. It was strange to be surrounded day-by-day with new faces after having been with only the same few for the last five months.

He clasped his hands behind his back as he approached the only occupied cell, allowing his gait to slow to a swagger despite his lingering limp.

"Lovely day, isn't it," he asked his brother.

Kíli glared up at him from where he sat on his bunk.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed," he continued on, ignoring the glower he was receiving, "but you seem to be on the wrong side of the bars."

Still Kíli remained silent, unmoving except to follow the other Dwarf with his eyes.

Fíli sighed theatrically and shook his head. "And here I thought that you wanted to be closer to your Lady Elf. Now she is up there and you are down here." He paused, but when no response came, began again. "Of course, she'll be back with the setting of the sun, but do you plan to woo her from across a hall and through two sets of iron bars?"

The younger Dwarf stood and crossed the cell in three strides. Fíli was comforted to see that his brother was much more steady on his legs now than he had been the night before.

"You lied to me," Kíli accused, hands gripped tightly to the bars in front of him. "You told me she was free to roam the mountain during the day. Not be collared and leashed like some feral dog."

The easy smile slipped from Fíli's face and he pushed aside the guilt that his brother's words had invoked. "I never said that she was free. Only that she helps with the wounded." He danced back a step when Kíli took a swing at him.

"Am I the only sane one left in this accursed mountain?" Kíli restored his grip on the cell door and deflated. He rested his forehead against the bars. "Do you see nothing at all wrong with what is happening here?"

Fíli's eyes flickered to the doorway, checking for listening ears, before stepping closer to his brother once more. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I see many things wrong here, more so than you know. I'm only just now beginning to understand the scope of it." He closed his hands around the cold iron under his brother's grip. "I need you to listen closely." He paused long enough to be sure that his brother understood the weight of his words. "I am being sent to Dale and am to bring a number of Dáin's men with me." He rushed on before the other Dwarf could interject. "There is more to this than a single Elf residing in Erebor. I fear that this mountain is not the safe haven that it should be."

Kíli kept his voice just as hushed as his brother's had been, and for that Fíli was grateful. "I don't understand. What is going on?"

He cast his eyes once more to the doorway. "Just keep your eyes open and try to not to cause anymore trouble while I'm gone." His tone lifted in fond exasperation. "If you are even capable of that." Through the bars, he ruffled his brother's hair as he had done when they were both children.

Kíli batted his hand away, just as always, and Fíli felt his heart clench for a moment. It was only by the grace of Mahal that the two had survived that terrible battle. Sitting beside his brother's unwaking form had been hard, but it was in this moment that he truly began to realize just how close he had come to losing his brother.

The two clasped forearms through the bars and Fíli touched his brow to the iron in a reflection of the younger Dwarf. "Be safe, little brother." He cracked a grin. "Don't go picking anymore fights with Dáin's men."

Kíli answered him with a cheeky smile of his own. "Next time I won't be fresh from a sick bed." His smile took on a more dangerous edge. "Next time, I'll win."

**********

The bunk beneath Kíli was tattered and moth ridden. Still, he reflected, it was better than the stone slabs used for benches in the cells of Mirkwood. He still had not decided if he preferred the constant sounds of falling water or the ever present silence that surrounded him now. His eyes traced the cracks in the ceiling above him and he had the fleeting thought that his staying in dungeon cells was, perhaps, not the best of habits to make.

Heavy boots on stone stairs alerted him to the approach of another Dwarf. Not Ori, whose steps were much lighter, or Nori, whose steps were near silent. Dwalin and Bofur had both already been by; the first to try 'to talk sense' into him, and the second, to help pass the time. He turned his head to see the newcomer, not bothering to sit up.

He did not have long to wait before the imposing figure of Thorin came into view, keys in hand. As the cumbersome door was swung open Kíli finally raised himself upright.

His uncle stood filling the doorway, blue robes regal across his shoulders and the crown upon his head reflecting the torchlight. He paused for but a moment before stepping back and gesturing with his hand. "Out."

The younger Dwarf made no move to do as he was commanded.

"Enough of this ridiculousness." As Kíli had made it obvious that he had no intention of leaving the cell, Thorin entered it fully. "We need you fit and whole, not rotting away behind bars."

Careful not to move too quickly, Kíli stood to face his uncle. "Easy enough. Put an end to this insult and accept Tauriel into the mountain as the ally that she is." He held his uncles gaze, hard and unrelenting.

Thorin did not waver, he stood as tall and proud as the statues standing guard outside of Erebor. "After all that has passed between our peoples it is gratitude alone that permits that Elf to reside under this mountain and not in a shallow grave."

Kíli fought down the instinct that called for him to lash out on her behalf. "How many times must she save my life before you will be able to see past the mistakes of her people?" He tried to think as Fíli would think, to reason as his brother would reason. "If not gratitude, Uncle, then mercy. For my sake, let her stay."

The elder Dwarf took a step forward to tower over his nephew in the small space. "You play a dangerous game, Sister's Son. You would have me call our former jailer a guest."

With a steady gaze, Kíli held his ground. "I would have you call my savior your friend. She is my star, and my life is hers. And if she is to be your prisoner, then so shall I."

Thorin closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. "She is as foolish as you are. No one holds that Elf here against her will." Kíli raised a brow in surprise but did not interrupt. "She asked to stay and so she has, but I'll not allow one of Thranduil's ilk to roam my halls freely."

Silence settled between the two and Kíli came fast to a decision. "Then let us leave here together." His voice grew in strength as he continued. "If you cannot give us your blessing under the mountain, perhaps you could wish us good journey."

Thorin's eyes searched his nephew's for a long and silent moment before his face softened and he cradled his hand to the back of Kíli's head. The young Dwarf could feel himself respond in kind, and hope welled within him. There had never been question of the bond between Thorin and his nephews, and Kíli hoped that it would be enough for him to win this new war. The next words were said quietly, as one might speak to a child. "You are still recovering. You will see reason again when your mind is less addled."

Kíli's face shuttered and he stepped away from his uncle and out of his grip. "I know my mind. I know my heart, and I'll not feign contentment while you parade her around in chains." For the first time in his life he turned his back to his uncle. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

It took everything in him not to turn back and beg pardon. There was a heavy sigh and Kíli ignored the pain behind it. He heard the door close, but not the turn of the lock. He kept himself as frozen as a sunlit troll until the sound of boot steps faded into the distance, only then did he allow his legs to buckle and the weight of what he had just done to settle upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm basing the time it took to get from The Shire to the Lonely Mountain on Wikepedia's Time Line of Arda. The journey from the Shire to the Lonely Mountain took five months, including weeks spent as Thranduil's prisoner.
> 
> I recently came back to Tumblr and can be found here: http://isileil.tumblr.com/ if anyone is interested.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is maybe a bit of Bagginshield in this chapter, if you tilt your head and squint.

The trek back through the mountain was longer for Thorin than his descent had been. His attention caught briefly on a side corridor still blocked by rubble, and he made a mental note to add it to the growing list of repairs. Now that the dead had mostly been cleared from the battlefield and the Front Gate had been mended, it was time to turn their focus to the inside of the Lonely Mountain.

He thought back over the confrontation with Kíli, and fought the urge to rub at the bandages wrapped around his chest. The pain he felt physically did not detract from the pain brought on by the growing distance with his nephew, neither of which could be healed quickly. It would be weeks yet, at best, before the first caravan would arrive from the Blue Mountains. Perhaps less, if his sister had her way. Until then, the King Under the Mountain could do nothing but bide his time. He only hoped that his youngest nephew could forgive him.

Thorin came upon the Gallery of the Kings, newly dubbed the Golden Gallery, and a familiar feeling of shame overtook him. He knew that should he ever begin to fear the Dragon Sickness to be taking hold of him once more, he had only to gaze upon the reflection under his feet to be brought back to himself. It was a constant reminder of how far he had fallen. He paused to observe the restorations taking place on the entrance to the forges and was impressed by how much had already been done. He could appreciate the help of the Iron Hills clan, but would be happy to see them go; if that time ever came. His cousin, Dáin, was a good man, and a great leader for his people, but the Dwarves of the Iron Hills had been isolated for too long. Thorin feared that it was only a matter of time before their clashing ideals, of what it meant to be a Dwarf and a king, would come to a head. He allowed himself the smallest of smiles. His nephew would almost certainly make sure that the conflict would be sooner rather than later.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice calling out to him.

“Was' this I hear of one of your nephews attackin' my cousin's boy?”

Thorin turned to the approaching figure of Dáin, his face impassive. “I believe it had something to do with your request of how the She-Elf should be treated.” He kept his voice level, despite his growing irritation. “My nephew disagreed with your method and took it upon himself to rectify the situation. Your cousin's son was unfortunate enough to be the one holding the keys.”

Dáin shook his head in bewilderment. “Wha' tha' boy needs is'a good whippin'. Pu' his head back on straigh'.”

Thorin ignored the impulse to walk away. Dáin would surely take it as an insult and that would do him no favors. “My nephew will be finishing his recovery in a dungeon cell until such a time that he and I can come to an agreement.”

He turned back to the repairs and felt a swift moment of longing for a time when he, himself, could work with hammer and anvil. There was something to be said for the simplicity of hard work and a long day, to be able to see what his own hands had crafted and take pride in his work. If not for the fussing of Óin and Balin, he would have been tempted to join the workers right then and there. The thought was a fleeting one and he let it go without regret. Thorin, son of Thrain, had been born to rule this mountain, to protect his people, and he would do just that.

Once more, Dáin's voice cut across his thoughts.

“Have you given any though' tha' it migh' no' be a spell?” Thorin turned to the other Dwarf with a raised brow. “Those twiggy cowards are a tricky lot. You can never be too careful.” Dáin met his gaze as he continued. “You know as well as I; the only way ta lift an enchantment is ta kill the witch tha' cast it. If I'd but known, I'd've saved you this trouble from the beginnin' and ended the Elf-witches life meself.”

Thorin could feel a pounding begin in his skull and forced himself not to pinch the bridge of his nose. “If I had believed magic to be the cause of this, it would have been dealt with by now. No, my nephew is himself in his decision.”

The two stood in silence for a moment and merely observed the work being done. Once, this mountain had been a beacon for his people, and someday it would be again. Thorin would make sure of that.

“This never would'a happened if it weren't for tha' overgrown worm.” Dáin shook his head in disgust. “Dwarves should stay in Dwarven burrows and leave the minglin' to the mongrels. Too much time spent amongst outsiders poisons the young.” His tone was sorrowful and rubbed like sandstone at Thorin's frayed nerves. “'Tis a shame, really.”

The dark haired Dwarf considered his words carefully before next he spoke, weighing in his mind the benefits of holding this conversation now as opposed to at a later date. “There is much, also, that can be gained from the other races. We would not hold this mountain now, if not for the help of a Hobbit.”

“Aye,” his cousin agreed, “they certainly have their purpose, bu' they'll never be one o' us.”

Thorin faced the larger Dwarf fully, and though he was the smaller of the two, he was no less commanding for it. “Bilbo Baggins is not a tool to be used. He is a hero to all that shall ever come to reside in Erebor and his name shall not be long forgotten.” On this, he would not falter. “He is, and ever shall be, my friend.”

Dáin's brow drew down in confusion at Thorin's reaction and he stared hard at the king for a long moment. “Aye,” he acknowledged at last, “bu' a Halfling an' an Elf are as far apar' as far can be.”

This was a dangerous precipice for him to walk, and Thorin knew it. He could feel what little time he had left slipping away and he considered his options carefully. If he were to agree with Dáin and drop the matter, more time could be bought, but at the expense of his nephew. If he were to push the issue further, he could lose the support of the majority of the Dwarves currently residing in the Lonely Mountain.

He held his ground and spoke only the truth. “I have no love for Thranduil and his kind, there is no secret in that. But the Elf in this mountain is no longer of his people. She has been banished, by the Elf-king himself, for her defiance. The result of which has saved my nephew's life. It is no wonder that he is soft on her when he owes her so much.”

Dáin tsked and waved a hand dismissively. “Those Leaf Eaters are all the same. Ya can'na trust 'em. They're always up ta something.” His eyes widened with a thought. “I'd wager her so called banishment to be nothing but a ruse; get her past our doors.” Thorin could see the wheels turning in the other Dwarves head. “Oh, but tha's clever.”

“Both of my nephews owe their lives to an Elf.” The king shook his head. “If not for the arrow of the Elf-king's son, we would be building a tomb right now, rather than rebuilding a kingdom.” With a deep sigh, he crossed the precipice. “I am reluctant to say this, but perhaps not all of the Woodland Realm are as heartless as their king.”

Dáin let out a hearty laugh, but cut it short when Thorin did not join in. “You mus' be jokin'.” The ginger Dwarf shot him a dubious glance. “You should maybe have your healer check tha' head o' yours again. You're talkin' nonsense.”

Thorin stood tall, shoulders back, head held high, and waited to see what conclusion his cousin would reach. He did not have long to wait.

The larger Dwarf's lips pulled back in revulsion. “Or has your time in exile made you soft?” Dáin sneered. “You'd disregard the crimes of those woodland sprites, and all because your two nephews can'na look after themselves?” His voice continued to rise and his face was turning an alarming shade of puce. “Wha's next? Pointy eared body guards for the wee little princelings?”

“You go too far, cousin.” Thorin's voice was calm but every muscle in his body was tense.

Dáin was near shaking with rage. “We came when you had need of us, ta defend this mountain from those shaikul bintarg abnathukrâf (cowardly beardless oath-breakers). I didn'a lose good warriors and better friends jus' for you ta give it to 'em.”

Thorin swallowed down his rage, though it was a near thing. Through gritted teeth, he spoke. “Allowing a single Elf to live in the halls of my kingdom is hardly handing it over.” It would seem that he did not need Kíli's assistance after all, to bring this conflict to its pinnacle.

His cousin shook his head and looked long at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “You're no' the same man tha' I remember.”

“I was but a child back then.” Before life had made him weary and wise; before a life in exile. “Much about the world has changed.”

Dáin stepped back from him. “I fear it is a change no' for the better.” With that, he turned and stormed away.

Thorin could only hope that he had not just doomed himself, his kingdom, and worst of all, his nephews, to a life in exile once more.

**********

Had Fíli known where Dáin had just come from, he may have avoided the Dwarf all together. As it was, the young prince had been seeking out his uncle's cousin and had found the man raging in the halls and ranting like a mad man. By the time he had recognized his error it was too late, as the older Dwarf had caught sight of him. He almost reached for his sword on instinct, as the large mass of armored ginger bore down upon him.

“Wha' happened on tha' journey o' yours tha' would cause your uncle ta lose him mind?”

Fíli could only stare wide-eyed for a moment before he blinked up at the Dwarf looming over him and raised a single brow. “It could have been the barrels. I know it'll be a long time before I can stand the smell of apples again.” The other man drew back with a look of bewilderment. “Have you ever ridden down a river in a wine barrel? It's enough to rattle anyone, even without the orcs shooting at us from the river bank.”

Perhaps Dáin had been expecting an argument and not an honest answer. Fíli was nearly knocked over by a slap to his back as the Dwarf Lord let loose a howling laugh.

His confusion over Dáin's anger was cleared up when the other man continued. “Did ya know the king is considering letting that Elf-witch live here freely?” He had not believed that Thorin could be swayed so quickly. Seeing the reaction his uncle's consideration of the matter had brought on, Fíli was beginning to understand the other man's reluctance.

His shock of the news must have shown on his face, and he was thankful that Dáin misread it. “Tha's right. I could'na believe it either.” A large, meaty hand was wrapped around Fíli's shoulder and he found himself walking down the corridor beside his uncle's cousin. “You're a good lad, if a bit young and flimsy, maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

“Of course.” He nodded and thought fast. Of himself and his brother, Fíli had always been the planner, the one to think three steps ahead. “It is probably for the best to avoid the conflict such an action would bring. To offer sanctuary to one who has been banished by Thranduil would only anger the Elf-king. You are right to want to err on the side of caution.”

Dáin's great face scrunched up in distaste as that new thought sank in. “Righ',” his voice was less confident and trailed off. Their steps slowed to a stop. “But tha's no'-”

Fíli cut him off. “I was just on my way to find you, actually, to thank you for allowing you're men to accompany me to Dale.” A swift change of subject was just what he needed to keep the other Dwarf on unsteady footing. He stepped out from under Dáin's arm and faced him formally. “They're very skilled and dedicated to their work. I'm sure the restoration of the town will take no time at all.”

“Bu'-”

He bowed to the Dwarf Lord. “And I'll be sure to speak to Thorin about your fears before I go. Don't you worry.” He left the other man standing in the middle of the corridor, looking a bit lost and confused as to what had just happened. Fíli, however, couldn't keep the smile from his face or the bounce from his step.

**********

When Kíli was brought before Thorin that evening, he was not sure if it was to his uncle he was being taken, or to his king. Either way, he hardly knew what to expect. He relaxed a measure as they passed the hall that would lead to the throne, glad that he would not be looking up at his uncle on a dais. The room they eventually stopped in was lit by a low fire and evenly spaced lanterns, giving the space a warm and welcoming glow. Though the chamber had been cleaned of dust and cobwebs, it was clear that sorting through the books and parchments that cluttered the area would take a bit more time. His uncle was sat at a large, ornate desk, and Kíli wondered vaguely if the documents he was perusing were from current events or from centuries past.

As the seconds ticked by and neither he nor his guard were acknowledged, the younger Dwarf wrenched his arm free of the grip that held it and glared at his captor, silently daring him to make a grab at him again. When his jailer made to do just that, Thorin's voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Leave us.”

The Iron Hills Dwarf hesitated a moment before stepping back with a bow and turning to exit. He shot Kíli a nasty scowl as he pulled the door shut behind him.

His uncle looked up from his papers for the first time and the shadows cast by the fire highlighted the darkening circles beneath the king's eyes. He felt a rush of shame, knowing that he was in part to blame for the stress upon his uncle. If it were just for himself, he would have begged the man to forget the matter entirely, but he would not allow Tauriel to continue to be treated as she was.

Thorin gestured to a small table and chairs sat near the hearth. “Sit,” he ordered. Kíli glanced to the table and was tempted by the plate of food that sat there, but he would not be so easily bought. His uncle closed his eyes when Kíli made no move, and sighed deeply. When he opened them again and spoke, his voice held less of an order and more of a request. “Sit and eat, and then we shall talk.”

After a moment of indecision, the young Dwarf found himself seated before a platter of steaming food and a tankard of frothy ale. His belly rumbled from just the smell of it and he cast one last glance to his uncle before tucking in. He had been given only soft bread and thin broth since he had woken and his stomach both rejoiced and rebelled at the hearty food. When he had eaten his fill, he pushed the plate away and found his uncle watching him over steepled fingers.

The other Dwarf rose from his seat behind the desk to join Kíli at the table. The two stared at one another until eventually Thorin broke the silence. “You would give up your birthright, your right to succession, after having fought so hard to regain it? And all for a woman?”

He held his uncle's gaze and hoped that his words would not fail him. “I would spend the rest of my days with her, where ever that may be.”

Thorin lifted a single eyebrow and leaned back in his seat. “You speak as if you would pledge yourself to her.”

“If she would have me.” Kíli took a deep, steadying breath and braced himself for the worst.

His uncle crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “An Elf and a Dwarf. Have you thought this through at all?” He continued without pausing for an answer. “You have only known of one another for a matter of weeks, the majority of which you spent as her prisoner. What do you even know of her to make you speak this way?”

“I know everything that I need to know, and I can spend the rest of my life learning the rest.” At his uncle's skeptical look, he rushed to prove himself. “I know that she is as dangerous as she is beautiful, and her aim with a bow is as true as her heart. I know that she has always longed to travel, but has been confined to the borders of her homeland; that she would stand up to anyone for what she believes is right.” His voice grew in strength and he leaned forward as he went on. “I know that when I see her my heart sings, and that I have never felt this way before about another. I know that she has lost her home just as we have regained ours, and I'll not see her face that alone.” He lowered his voice again. “She has risked her life for me, given up her people for me, and I would do the same in return. If you will not welcome her here, I'll not suffer her to stay. She and I will leave.”

His uncle stared hard at him in silence. At last the older Dwarf uncrossed his arms and leaned forward as well. “What you speak of is infatuation mixed with gratitude. You are simply too young to know the difference.”

Kíli bristled. “Not so young that you would turn me away when you set out for this mountain. I have nearly lost my life countless times on this journey, and I would do it all again.” He sent his uncle a challenging look. “I stood with you, against all odds, to help you regain your treasure. Would you not stand with me now for mine?”

Thorin shoved the empty dishes aside and leaned further onto the table. “Even if she should be accepted by our kin, it would still be a troubled road to tread; for the both of you.”

The young Dwarf waved away his uncle's worries. “We would make it work.”

Thorin raised a brow in challenge. “Setting aside the differences in our cultures, have you given thought to what it would mean for a Wood Elf to live under a mountain? Do you think that she would truly be happy here, without her trees, without her stars?” Thorin sat back once again as he spoke. “And what of your age? You are young now, but think, boy. In a hundred years, in two, will she still look at you the same? As you lay on your death bed, old and wasting away, she will not have aged a day.” He shook his head. “You would do better to find a Dwarf bride. To settle and have a family that will not cause you as much sorrow as it does joy.”

Kíli fought the doubt that his uncle's words provoked. Perhaps he was too young and stubborn, but he would not be swayed. “My heart first beat for her as I stood covered in spider's silk. Mahal himself could not divide me from her.”

Thorin sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “I will assign you custody of our prisoner. You may grant her whatever freedoms that you deem fit.” Kíli's face shifted to a dumbfounded stare and then a wide smile, but his uncle spoke again before he could find the words to express his gratitude. “Do not thank me yet. She will be your responsibility and should she betray us, I will not be able to shield you from the consequences.”

Kíli could hardly hold himself together, he was so overwhelmed with happiness. “You have nothing to worry about, I promise. Everything will be just fine.”

Thorin gave his nephew an indulgent smile and rose to fetch a parchment from his desk. “Let it not be said that I do not recognize when a debt is owed.” He handed the paper to Kíli who was surprised to see the order already printed. “And anyone who would stand against Thranduil is an ally of Erebor.”

Kíli chuckled at that. Too excited to sit still any longer he bade his uncle goodnight and took hurried steps to the door. Before he could reach the opening, he was stopped one last time.

“And Kíli, this mountain has room enough. Our new guest should have her own quarters, I do not expect that you'll need to share.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who was reviewed, subscribed, bookmarked, and left kudos. Every time I feel myself getting overwhelmed by this story I think of all of you and keep going. One chapter at a time, *sigh* one chapter at a time.
> 
> I had thought that Dáin was a very small Dwarf until I watched Thorin's battle charge again and saw them next to each other. It would seem that his War Hog is just immensely huge. Also, he is really hard to write. He wreaks havoc on my spell checker. Blarg.


	4. Chapter 4

When the doors to the Hall of Healing were thrown open, and Kíli came stumbling in as if a pack of wargs were at his heels, Tauriel's first instinct was to drop the tray in her hands and reach for her daggers. As there were no actual giant wolves chasing him, nor did she have a weapon on her person, she found the nearest flat surface to empty her chained hands and rushed to his side. She approached the Dwarf and took stock of what she could see of him; flushed cheeks, bright eyes, heavy breathing. The Elf stretched out a hand to check him for fever, but he caught her mid-reach and brushed his lips along her knuckles with a smile.

Her pleas to let her check him over were swept away with a wink and a shake of his head. His gaze moved past her to where she knew her ever present shadow to be and with her hand still in his, he led her in that direction. They paused in front of her guard only long enough to swap the parchment in his hands for the keys to her chains and it was minutes later that the two were out in the hall, only now she was free of her bonds. She begged him again; to slow, to stop, to let her check his bandages. She was terrified that he would hurt himself in his hurry, but more afraid that she would cause him harm if she were to resist his pull.

Still huffing, and no less flushed, Kíli led her to what looked to be a random door. He paused only briefly before he pushed the door open and, never once releasing her grip, backed his way into the room. Tauriel took in her surroundings with a glance, more interested in watching the man before her. It was an empty bedroom, furnished, but with no signs of being occupied, and she wondered at the excitement on his face.

His smile grew impossibly wide and Tauriel found her worries forgotten with his next statement. “It's for you,” he explained, taking her other hand as well.

Surprised, she looked again at the space; a dresser, a wardrobe, a vanity and chair. Her attention fixed on the bed. It was smaller than she was used to, but not so much that it would be uncomfortable; in fact, she noted, it would fit two quite easily. The thought flitted through her mind and she was glad to not have been meeting Kíli's eye at the time.

She continued her examination of the room. Someone had been by to light the lamps and place fresh linens on the mattress. There was a small furnace in one corner of the room giving off a comfortable heat, with a cushioned seat beside it.

Unable to find an excuse any longer she let her gaze fall back to the Dwarf in front of her. His breathing had evened out in the time that they had been standing, and the high color had retreated from his cheeks, but a shine was still in his eyes.

She led him to the chair by the heater and bade him to sit. “Please,” she implored him again. “Let me check your wound.” Though he did not seem to be in distress, her fears would not be completely put to rest until she saw that all was well with her own eyes.

Tauriel was grateful when he nodded and lowered himself onto the cushion. She knelt in front of him and found herself looking up into his face for the first time. He held her gaze as he reached for the hem of his tunic, only breaking away as it went over his head. Her cheeks began to warm but she ignored the sensation. She had tended many a wounded man and woman in her years as Captain of the Guard, and had never before been effected by the site of bare skin. Elves, while strong, were generally very slight of build, but the body that was before her spoke of raw power, barely restrained, and she stared, unabashed. There was a layer of fine hair across his breast; thin, but covering the expanse; and she found her hand moving through it without remembering having given it permission.

She raised her eyes to meet his again and her breath caught at the spark of heat that she found there. She pulled her hand away, embarrassed to be so enamored, and cast her eyes to the large bandage wrapped around his middle. It was only her decades of practice that kept her fingers from fumbling on the bindings, and for that she was grateful. Kíli sat, silent and steady, his hands gripping the arms of the chair, as she unwound the clothe. His breath hitched only once, as her hand grazed over his bare flesh. Underneath she found puckered, pink skin; scar tissue, still tender, but nearly healed.

“I'm fine.” His voice, though soft, seemed loud in the space between them. “A weeks mending does wonders for a Dwarf. We're tougher than we look.” He laid a hand on her cheek and she closed her eyes, letting herself turn into the caress. “Last night's weakness was nothing more than a lingering of Óin's tonic. It's quite potent.”

His tone was too light and contrasted to the heaviness that had weighed her down for the past week. Tears pooled in her eyes without her consent before spilling over. She pressed her lids more tightly shut, not wanting to see the disgust on his face at her weakness. She tried to pull back, to turn away, but he pulled her fully into his embrace with strong arms and held her close, running his fingers through her hair. The ache in her chest built higher and higher at his act of kindness, and she could hold herself in check no longer. All at once the stress, the fear, the despair that she had felt over the past days came pouring forth from her in a great deluge. In her mind she could see him, pale and near lifeless; could feel the listless way his body had moved when she had taken him into her arms on Ravenhill.

She had not realized that she was speaking through her sobs until his voice answered her.

“It's all right,” he murmured, “I'm alive. I didn't die. I won't leave you.”

She took comfort in hearing the words from him and shame that she should need that comfort. What a poor specimen of her people she was, to be ruled so completely by her emotions. He held her until her tears ran dry and she pulled away, rubbing at her eyes with unforgiving force. A punishment, if a small one, for her shortcomings.

He pulled her hands away and, ever so gently, dried the remainder of her tears with his thumbs. “Amrâlimê, you must be gentle.” The smile he gave her was tender and his heart shone from his eyes.

Her first instinct was to pull away; to retreat back into herself and try to rebuild what defenses that she could; but his gaze was so sincere, and his touch so reassuring, that she could not find it in herself to do so. She still did not know the exact translation of the foreign word, but she could guess at its meaning and it brought a warmth to her heart that could drive out any cold. With his hands still cupped to her face, Tauriel did what she should have done on the beach of the Long Lake. She leaned forward and touched her lips to his for the first time. It was a gentle kiss, sweet in its innocence and uncertainty, and in that moment all of her fears for the future and shame of the past dissipated into the ether.

The fingers of one of Kíli's hands brushed the edge of her ear as it traveled into her hair and her breath caught at the touch. He used the opportunity to deepen the kiss and her own hands found their way around him. She clutched desperately at his shoulders, and pulled their bodies flush. The solidness of his frame was a reassurance that she needed and when he broke off the kiss, and rested his forehead against hers, it was a desperate choked-off sound that escaped her.

When she was finally able to open her eyes, she could not help but to return his shy smile.

“Hello,” he whispered, and she cherished the feeling of his breath across her cheek.

She would later blame it on the emotional turmoil that had just poured from her, but for the first time that she could remember, in all of her six centuries, Tauriel let loose a laugh so light and full of happiness that it could be called nothing else but a giggle. The sound was so foreign that it startled her and she covered her swollen lips as she sat back. There was no denying the blush that now spread across her being; she could feel it from the tips of her ears, down to her chest.

A heartfelt laugh erupted from Kíli and she would have been offended at being ridiculed, if she had not enjoyed the sound so much. He pulled her back to him and buried his face in her hair. She wrapped her arms around him again and wallowed in the contentment that their embrace brought to her. She took comfort in the warmth of his body and the strength that she could feel hidden just beneath his skin. A dark thought crept into her mind, one that Tauriel could not deny. No matter how strong he was he would never share in her immortality, and one day she would truly lose him. She held him all the more tightly for it.

**********

There were no words for Kíli to describe the way he felt to be alone with his love and be able to hold her in his arms. There had been a time, at the top of Ravenhill, when he had believed that a moment such as this would never happen. He had been so sure of his own demise, and in part, had been happy to follow after his brother. His only regret had been the thought of leaving Tauriel to deal with the hulking Orc who would have been the death of him. Looking back now he could see what a fool he had been for giving up. If not for the stubborn woman before him, he would not have been joining his brother as he had thought, but would have been leaving him behind instead.

He pushed the thought away to focus once more on the woman in his embrace. His nose was still buried in her hair and he let himself inhale the scent of her. Perhaps it was the auburn color of her locks, but as he drew in her essence, he could see in his mind's eye autumn leaves being spun around in a whirlwind. Her breathing was even now; a comfort to him after the broken heaving Tauriel had struggled with earlier. He smoothed his hand once more down her back and a small part of his mind marveled at how someone who felt so frail could be so powerful. He wondered who would win if they were to spar. The thought sent a jolt through his veins and he pulled away from her, afraid that she would not appreciate the reaction his body had to that image.

They could not have stay wrapped around each other forever, regardless. Eventually her neck would grow stiff and uncomfortable from keeping the upturned angle; this he knew from experience. Her eyes were impossibly wide and perhaps a little lost. Kíli had always heard about the coldness of Elves, how emotionless they were, but he had seen a passion in the woman before him that would make any Dwarf proud. He could not keep the smile from his face in her presence and was more than happy when she returned it. If his Elf was feeling lost then he would do all that he could to help her find her way again.

He took both of her hands in his larger grip and rose to his feet, pulling her along with him. If he were the proper sort, he would leave her for the night and return to his own room. He glanced at the door in uncertainty before meeting her gaze again. Leaving was the last thing that he wanted to do but he was unsure of what expectations she would have of him. How did one court an Elf?

Tauriel squeezed his hands in her own, bringing his attention back to her. “Stay,” she requested, “if only for a while longer.”

Unable to deny his Lady anything, he nodded. He released her hand only long enough to redon his tunic before then reclaiming it to lead her the short distance to the bed. There they sat, facing one another on the soft mattress.

The silence stretched out between them and Kíli blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “What is that you're wearing?” His own cheeks now held a blush at his thoughtless words, but he wouldn't deny his curiosity. The Wood Elf's usual forest colored armor had been replaced with a plain gray gown that was just barely too short.

Tauriel blinked at the sudden question before looking down at herself. “Do you not like it?” She plucked at the skirt with one hand and answered in an uncertain voice. “When it became clear that my presence here would be lingering, your uncle sent to Dale to provide me with the clothing that I would need.” Her tone turned wry. “He said that he would not tolerate the stench of unwashed Elf stinking up his halls.”

Kíli pushed away the irritation of his uncle's words and focused on the fact that she had been thought of at all. “He'll come around.” His tone was more hopeful than convincing and he wondered for whose benefit the words were spoken. He searched his mind for a new subject, anything that would fill the air between them and give him a reason to linger. “What have I missed this last week? Where's Bilbo? I haven't seen him around at all.”

Her smile told him that she knew what he was doing and she shifted back on the bed to settle herself against the pillows. “The Halfling is already on his way back home.” Her tone spoke of an apology relayed second hand. “He would have stayed to see you wake, but Mithrandir was to be his guide and wizards are restless creatures.”

Tauriel stretched out her arm and patted the space beside her. He did not need to be told twice and shuffled his way next to her so that they were shoulder to shoulder. There was a question on the tip of his tongue, something he was almost afraid to ask. He took her hand back into his own and focused on that simple contact as he spoke. “Why are you here?” She stiffened beside him. He met her eyes and rushed to undo any damage his reckless words had done. “Because I love that you are, I do, but I need to know what has changed since the lake. If you are here only because you have nowhere else to go, you should know that I would still welcome you in the mountain, but you need not pretend something that is not there. If it is pity that brings you to me, then I beg you, please tell me now so that we may end it.” He shifted onto his side to better face her, still propped up on the mound of pillows beneath them. “But if you feel for me, even in part, what I feel for you, I would devote the rest of my life to you and your happiness.”

He could see the war inside of her playing out across her face and he could only wonder how hard it would be to speak freely of his own emotions after having lived through centuries of repression. “You don't have to answer me tonight.” He brought their joined hands to his face and nuzzled the back of hers. “Did you know that Dwarves only love once?” He could see that she had not, but she made no move to speak. “You are my One, Tauriel, and I will never love another. But I would not hold you here for that reason alone. A dungeon is a dungeon, bars or no, and a prisoner is a prisoner, even if it is just of the heart.”

Her eyes slid closed but she did not pull away from him. Without opening her eyes she turned towards him so that they were face to face once more, and began to speak. “I thought that you had died.” Her voice was soft, but full of a powerful emotion. “I thought that you had died, and I held you in my arms, and I mourned you. I have known you for barely any time at all and yet I felt your loss so keenly.” She gave a shuddering sigh but still would not open her eyes. “When I realized that life still flowed within you I knew that I had been given a second chance. Not many are so lucky and I will not throw such a gift away.” Finally her lids lifted and he was faced with a forest of emotion. “If Iluvatar allows it, I will stay with you until your last breath, may it be far from now, and then I will follow you.”

It was spoken with the weight of a vow and Kíli felt a shiver go through him.

“Elves are much the same as Dwarves when it comes to love,” she whispered. “Only once.”

He felt a small smile quirk his lips. “How is it done?” At her raised eyebrows, he clarified, a blush dusting his cheeks again. “Courting, I mean. I know how I would go about things if you were a Dwarf, but...” he let the thought trail off.

She gave him a teasing smile and caressed his hand with her thumb. “There is a lot of pomp and circumstance, the meeting of families, a trading of rings, and a year of betrothal before the ceremony.”

“A year,” his voice was incredulous.

She huffed a laugh at his reaction and he loved the sound of it. “What is it like for your people?”

“Well we certainly don't make anyone wait a year.” He wanted to honor her culture, but twelve months was a very long time. “For most Dwarves, it's usually no more than an agreement between both parties. Then it's just a matter of getting everyone together, gathering enough food and drink for family and friends, an exchange of vows and that's it.”

“No tokens to exchange?” Her thumb had moved to rub circles on his palm and, even though it was a small movement, it was driving him half mad.

“Jewelry,” he answered, and then forced himself to focus on his words and not her touch. “Any kind of jewelry, usually made by hand.” A new thought occurred to him. “You said meeting of families. You know most of mine already and my mother should be here soon.” At her stricken look he rushed to assure her, “She's going to love you. Really, you have nothing to worry about.” She didn't seem at all relieved and he was reminded of his words to her the night before when he had reassured her about his uncle. He dismissed the thought out right. His mother had always been the more level headed of the siblings. “Am I going to meet your family as well?”

A pained expression flitted across her face, but it was the look of an old wound. “I have been alone in this world for many centuries now. The closest to kin that I have is my dear friend, Prince Legolas.” The pain on her face this time was fresh and raw. “I do not know if I will ever see him again.”

There were no words of comfort that he could give to her. He brushed his free hand along her face hoping that his touch might be enough. He hated that she should feel such anguish, and that he was, at least in part, to blame. It was one more reason for him to loathe the Prince of the Woodland Realm. Kíli inhaled a deep breath and released his anger with it. Holding a grudge against one that Tauriel would consider her kin would only hurt her in the end. “We have time,” he comforted her. “You and I will have to come to a compromise on this year business, but we have time. Perhaps things will change and you will have your friend at your side once again.” She gave him a weak smile but neither agreed nor argued. “Thorin is reaching out to the Men of Dale,” he persisted, “perhaps it is not so far to think that a peace can be found between our two peoples as well.”

Her smile was much more heartfelt and he was lost at the sight. If she had asked him to dance the night away with the Elven prince, it would have been done, so long is it would bring her pleasure.

Hand-in-hand the two talked into the night, and when sleep finally came for them, they were wrapped in each other's arms again, him propped on a pillow and her resting against his chest. He knew, in the moment before he finally drifted off, that if every night were to end in the same, he would spend the rest of his life a very happy Dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was almost utter crap and you have my husband to thank for catching it. Originally this chapter and the next were one long one, but it was rushed and didn't flow properly. He encouraged me to split them and expand and that is exactly what I did. I'm much happier with the result, though this could use a bit more polish, but I only have an hour before it's time to post. So, no Figrid this time, but all Figrid next time.
> 
> Also, I tend to use the time when I update to fix any editing in previous chapters. I'm not sure how update alerts work for that, so apologies to anyone who is getting 4 or 5 alerts per chapter, hehehe.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day broke clear and bright, and Fíli was ready to set out long before his brother was up to see him off. Though he would have liked to have said goodbye before leaving, it was enough to know that his brother was no longer in danger. His steps as the entourage had disembarked from the Lonely Mountain were steady and strong, his limp barely perceivable. Another day or two and even that would be gone.

The journey from the gates of Erebor to the city of Dale was not a long one, by any means; but with two wagons full of gold, another of tools and supplies, and almost one hundred Dwarves on foot, it had taken just a bit longer than usual. By the time they had reached the entrance to the city, the troupe had been spotted and a small welcoming party had been formed. At least, Fíli hoped they were there to welcome them. As they drew closer, he could see the familiar faces of Bard and his eldest daughter among the waiting group, and he was encouraged by the sight. The new King and Lady of Dale broke away from the gathering and he met them halfway between their two peoples.

“I hear that you are a prince, now, yes?” Bard stood, arms crossed over his chest, and letting the hillside add to his height. “That's quite a long way to come from climbing out of toilets.”

His daughter, Sigrid, elbowed her father in the side with a soft-spoken reprimand. The man let out an exaggerated grunt, but relaxed his stern posture with a grin.

She stepped forward and curtsied to the Dwarf Lord before her. The move was awkward and unpracticed, and for a moment he worried that she would tumble from the road, but she finished with a smile which he returned with ease.

Fíli executed a bow in response, and if perhaps it was a bit overly flourished and excessive it had been worth it to hear the Lady laugh. His brother was not the only one who delighted in the sound of feminine delight.

Bard stepped forward to join his daughter and his stance was more open and friendly. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

The Dwarf prince gestured grandly towards the wagons behind him and let his voice carry. “I have brought the gold that we had agreed upon as payment in Lake-town.” He turned back to the two and lowered his tone to a whisper. “And perhaps a bit more. I've a proposition for you from my king.”

Bard sent a quick glance to the restless Dwarves on the road and the equipment they had brought with them. When he looked to Fíli again his voice was also subdued. “I assume the price to be paid will not be in the gold that you've brought with you?”

The prince nodded. “Simply an alliance between our two peoples; the Men of Dale and the Dwarves of Erebor.” He put emphasis on the last word. “The Dwarves of only Erebor.”

The new king raised a brow before looking once more over the assembly on the road. “I see.” He fixed his gaze on Fíli and it was a measuring stare. “An alliance between our two kingdoms would seem beneficial to all involved. But I find myself reluctant to risk what remains of my people on the whims of Thorin Oakenshield.”

The prince had been expecting something of that nature. Even with their bargain now fulfilled, that did not excuse the actions of his uncle while he had been under the Dragon Sickness. “You may hold me accountable for this alliance.” Fíli stood proudly; every inch a Son of Durin. “I am not my uncle, nor am I under the influence of the illness which had caused him to act so poorly. I will keep my word, and I promise you; the lives of your people will not be thought of lightly.”

Again Bard stared into him, as if trying to read the Dwarf's intentions from the inside.

Sigrid's soft voice spoke up. “Da, you can trust him.” She lay a hand on her father's arm and smiled at Fíli. “Don't forget, he and his kin defended Bain, Tilda, and me from Orc blades and dragon's fire.” She looked back to her father. “What else could you ask of him to prove himself?”

The look Bard sent to his daughter was one Fíli had never witnessed on the man before him, but had seen on Thorin from time to time. It spoke of the love and tenderness all fathers feel for their children, with a pride that could not be concealed, and a regret that they could not protect their young from the harshness of the world.

The King of Dale nodded his acceptance and spread his arms wide. “Welcome to the city of Dale.” His voice rolled down the road to the waiting Dwarves.

There was grumbling from the horde behind him and Fíli was grateful that his host could not understand their language. Most, if not all, of the Iron Hills clan had thought it a waste of time and resources to offer aid to the human city, preferring to focus on the repairs of the Lonely Mountain first. He had no doubt, however, that they would do their duty without falter; most likely a fair bit faster than expected, as well, to try to get back as quickly as possible.

**********

Bard and his daughter had led the way through the gate and into the city proper. The wagons had been left with the guards and the Dwarves had flowed through like a landslide, leaving great clouds of dust in their wake. They had been led to a row of mostly intact houses for them to stay in while in the city but Fíli had taken in the scope of his surroundings and promptly declined. At the dubious look on the bowman's face the Dwarf lord had tried to explain. His people were best served surrounded by stone; broken or whole, it made no difference. They would feel more at home in the rubble than this close to the heart of the city and the people that lived there; and so the horde had set off again, this time away from the bustle of everyday life.

Even decimated as it was the town was still large, and with debris blocking the streets, it was afternoon before the Dwarves were finally settled into their new home and ready to work. Bard had offered to show Fíli around, so that he might have a better understanding of what needed to be done, but a runner from the garrison had arrived before they could set out, and the King of Dale had been called away to business.

And so it was that Sigrid and Fíli found themselves walking through the crumbling streets, just the two of them.

“We've not done much in the way of repairs, just yet.” She explained, as they skirted a fallen wall.

Fíli looked up at the half standing structure, before focusing once more on the woman beside him. “Wouldn't that be a priority before the snows begin to fall?”

She made a noise of agreement and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We've been lucky to find a roof for everyone,” her tone turned somber, “the battle helped with that a bit.”

They were both silent for a moment. Though Thorin's Company had been fortunate enough to survive the battle without a loss, the Dwarves of the Iron Hills had lost a fair few of their numbers and knew well the cost of war.

When Sigrid spoke next her voice was firmer, and he was reminded that, though she had been born the daughter of a bargeman, the woman beside him was now the daughter of a king. “Right now our time is best spent on filling up the stores. What food we had from harvest burned on the lake and our stocks are low.”

They were getting closer to the habitable part of the city again, if the buzz and hum up ahead was any indication.

“We've been scavenging the orchards for what's left of the crop,” she continued, “and draining the lake of fish to dry before the water freezes over and they dive too deep.”

Fíli nodded, his gaze drifting over the buildings around them. He thought of offering the supplies of Erebor, but they were not his to give. What food there was in the mountain had been brought by Dáin; and while his uncle might have considered the notion, he doubted that his uncle's cousin would be so agreeable.

“There are the Elves, though,” she said with a smile. “They've been bringing us supplies. It's been an unexpected kindness, but a very welcome one.”

The best he could offer was a neutral acknowledgement. It was a dangerous thing, he knew, to rely on the generosity of Elves, especially those of Mirkwood. He hoped that Thranduil's good will would hold through the winter; for the sake of Sigrid, and her people.

The handfuls of townsfolk they had been passing became a genuine crowd as they continued and Fíli tried to ignore the stares that they were receiving. This part of the city had been cleaned up to an extent, the largest of the debris having been removed, though the architecture could still use repair.

The people parted as they made their way down the street and he could not help but notice the way heads bobbed in deference as they passed. Growing up in the Blue Mountains, Fíli and his brother had always known about their lineage and what expectations would be on them when they were of age. Sigrid, on the other hand, had most likely never dreamed that her life would turn out the way that it had. She greeted each and every person with a smile and a kind word, but he could read how uncomfortable she was at their attentions by the stiffness of her shoulders and the silence that settled between them. It was an easy thing for him to suggest that they walk the perimeter of the outer wall; in part to see what he could of the damage, but also to separate themselves from the crowd.

As they reached the edge of the city, and approached one of the many gaping holes in the great wall, Sigrid paused to look at the peak rising over them. “I grew up looking out my window at that mountain.” Her eyes were distant as she gazed at its snow covered summit and he could see the shadow of days past. “It had always been a symbol of despair before, a symbol of loss.” When her eyes focused again, they found Fíli and he was glad to see the warmth returned to them. “But now the dragon is gone and people are living there again. When I look to the mountain now, I see the braziers lit and it fills me with hope.”

The smile she gave to him was soft, and he found it an easy thing to return. She was so young, her face still held a hint of youthful roundness, and yet, her bearing carried a wisdom that could only be won through hardship. Standing beside her, he could begin to see what had been so obvious on all of the faces they had passed before. She had a balance of dignity and humility that would serve her well in the years to come, and her people clearly adored for it.

He offered her his arm, elbow bent, “Shall we, my lady?”

She curled her hand around it with a smile.

They walked side-by-side in comfortable silence until a blockage in the road forced them apart. The remains were not piled high and he was able to help himself, and then Sigrid, over with little trouble.

She peaked a shy smile up at him through her lashes as he handed her down to the ground once more. “I never did say thank you for saving us.” At his dubious look she clarified. “In Lake-town.”

Fíli offered her his arm again. “Yes, well,” he was caught somewhere between a roguish smile and a sheepish grin, “it was the least we could do. It was, after all, our fault that you were in danger in the first place.”

She looked away with a playful smile of her own, and he found that he quite liked the look on her.

If he had not still been watching her face, he would not have seen the smile slip away to be replaced with something more somber. “Still, if not for the bravery of you and your kin...” She let the sentiment trail off.

“You were brave too.” He reassured her.

The look she gave him then was full of incredulity and self-loathing. “Very brave indeed to hide beneath a table.”

He stopped them in their steps and turned to face her fully, laying his free hand on her arm. Though he only came up to her shoulders, his stance was commanding and his voice was earnest as he looked up into her face. “You protected your sister, and that is no small thing. You must never doubt yourself.”

She cast her eyes away but nodded. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before he released it and with her hand still tucked in the crook of his arm they set off once more.

It was several paces before she spoke again and he was glad to hear the confidence back in her voice. “I still wish I could have done more, though. I think that I would have liked to have learned how to wield a blade; like the lady-Elf.”

He looked to her again and was further encouraged when she met his eyes. “Well then, why don't you?”

Her sigh was full of longing. “I am the Lady of Dale now, it wouldn't be proper.” Here her voice turned wry. “And besides, who would teach me? My da?”

“I could,” he spoke without thinking; but on reflection, found that he did not regret the words at all. “When there is time.” It was Sigrid who halted their progress now. At her incredulous look, he explained. “No harm has ever come from knowing how to guard oneself. In fact, the best way to protect someone is to teach them a proper defense.”

Her face lit up, bright and hopeful. “I think that I would like that very much,” Her smile only dimmed a little as she added, “but, perhaps, just for now, mind you, we should keep it just between the two of us.”

By the time the pair had made the journey back around to the beginning, Fíli realized that he had spent more time watching Sigrid than checking the wall for damage, and could not find it in himself to mind at all.

**********

As the sun peaked over the horizon the next morning, and long before it would breach the top of the walls of the city of Dale, the sounds of masonry could be heard filling the air. The ting and crunch of work would last until the sun would begin its descent, as was the way of Dwarves. It was midday before Fíli broke away from the work, and only then because of the appearance of unexpected visitors.

He barely had to time to turn and drop his tools before he had an armful of excited Tilda. “Careful now,” he admonished her, as he swung her around with a laugh, “accidents are not unheard of when there is stone being cut, and work being done.”

He set the young girl down on her feet and she stepped back without her smile dimmed a bit. “I've told Da all about how you saved us and what a hero you are.” She paused to take a look at the Dwarves around them. “Are the others here as well? How is your brother? Does his leg still hurt him? Did you and your friends fight in the battle?”

“Tilda,” Sigrid cut of the unending questions with a roll of her eyes as she caught up to her little sister. “He can't answer any of your questions if you don't give him the chance to speak.” She looked to Fíli with a bashful smile. “She's been begging to see you since she first found out you were in the city.”

He chuckled at that. “The others are still in the mountain, and my brother is much better now, thank you,” he answered Tilda.

The younger girl looked up to her sister. “Do you think we should go and visit? Da always brings flowers when we're feeling unwell, maybe we should bring some to Kíli.”

Fíli's laugh was louder this time and many a Dwarf stopped to look their way. “I'm sure that he would like that very much, but perhaps now is not the best time for a visit.”

Tilda looked as if she was about to ask another question but was cut off by her sister once more. “We thought you might like something to warm you up.”

She looked over her shoulder to a small cart that was just rounding the bend in the street. The wariness of the people who were pulling the dolly was a stark contrast to the openness of Bard's children. As the cart drew near Fíli could see a large barrel and a pile of empty tankards. The offer of free drink caught the attention of more and more Dwarves and the sounds of metal on stone began to fade.

“A number of these casks were found floating on the lake,” Sigrid explained as the first mug was filled and passed to her. “Wine is not the only thing that Esgaroth was once known for.” She held the flask as if it held the greatest of treasures; steam curling up from the liquid and away from her hands. She raised the flagon between them as an offering. As the sweet smell reached his nose, Fíli could feel his stomach rebel.

Apples; it would have to be apples. He was aware of every eye on him, human and Dwarf alike. He knew that if he refused the gift, it would be an insult to Sigrid and an example for his own people. He swallowed down his grimace and forced himself to accept the mug. He focused instead on the feel of Sigrid's hands beneath his as he took the tankard from her. A hint of a blush colored her cheeks and he held her eyes as he brought the first taste of cider to his lips. It was an easy thing to find a smile for her when she looked so lovely in front of him.

His surroundings were brought back into focus when the sounds of Tilda trying to offer a drink to the next nearest Dwarf caught his ears. The man was just taller than the young girl but twice as wide. He held himself stiffly and with a caution that was reflected in all of his countrymen. She seemed not to take notice of any of this, however, and was busy explaining how tasty the drink was; as if his reluctance was that of a child refusing to try a new food for the first time.

“It's really, really quite good,” she reassured him. “Look,” she brought the cider back towards herself, “see?” and took a swig before offering it the Dwarf once more. “I would drink all of it myself, if I could, but Da says then I'd be too sweet and would melt in the rain.”

A few of the Dwarves around them chuckled and she smiled all the brighter for it. The Dwarf in front of her finally reached forward and accepted the cider, taking a tentative sip for himself. His face turned thoughtful and he smacked his lips a few times before nodding his head.

A rumble of approval went through the closest of the crowd and that seemed to be the signal the others had been waiting for. As one, they moved towards the cart and full mugs were passed sloshing overhead and throughout the gathering. Fíli watched as the Dwarves settled around the area, laughing and talking; more relaxed than they had been since leaving the mountain. Many were listening to Tilda, who had settled herself in the midst of the camp, and was recounting their adventurous escape the night of Smaug's attack. It was a sight that filled him with a hope he had not believed would be so easily found.

Sigrid, at his side, leaned into him and spoke in an undertone. “There's an unused stable nearby that I think would work for lessons.” He looked up and found her expression to be one of uncertainty. “If you would be able to find the time tonight?”

“I'm certain that I can slip away,” he assured her. “Will you be missed?” he wondered.

She flushed again and shook her head. “It will have to be after dark.” She met his eyes and he could see the excitement building there. “Once Tilda is asleep and Da has checked in on us one last time, I should be free to leave.”

He nodded and turned his attention back to the scene spread out before him. The men and women that had brought the cart were sharing in the warm drink and had eased enough to chat with the Dwarves closest to them. It was Tilda, though, that kept his attention; it was she who lifted his worries about the future. Perhaps his uncle had been wrong about the Dwarves of the Iron Hills and their ability to remain untouched by the plight of the other races. The young girl seemed to have developed a fondness for his kin, and it looked as if those around her were easily falling for her charms. He wondered if the iron heart of Dáin could stand up to the sweetness of little Tilda, or if he would melt as easily as his own men were doing in her presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In 'The History of The Hobbit', Tolkien set 19 October as Durin's Day, so I'm going with that for my timetable for the seasons.
> 
> I have head cannon that if Dwarf women are rare, then so too are Dwarf babies, and because of that, all Dwarves see children as something to be treasured, regardless of their race. Also, I'm modeling Tilda after an older version my niece who could charm the scales off of a snake. ^_^


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been reworked a bit. This is now listed under 'Peter Jackson's Movies' instead of 'All Media' for reasons. Also, action scenes aren't really my thing, so be gentle.

Fíli had not been certain how long after the setting of the sun that he would have to wait for Sigrid. He had shed his outer coat upon entering the stable and settled himself onto the floor with a wooden block in one hand and a whittling knife in the other. It had been too long since he had last had the chance to practice the art of carving and the simple focus that it required was soothing after a long day of hard labor.

He had been able to get a good start on his project by the time one of the large doors was cracked open and a cloaked figure slipped through. He paused in his work, knife held firmly in one hand and swords waiting ready at his side. Too many nights spent on the open road had made it hard for him to trust shadowed strangers, even when company was expected.

His tensed muscles relaxed as the hood was lowered, and he stood to greet Sigrid with another courtly bow. "My lady."

He wondered if she would always blush when he addressed her as such and found himself tempted to put the theory to the test. She curtsied in return, holding out the cloak in lieu of a skirt, and seemed much more confident with the move than she had the day before. "I hope you haven't been waiting long," she began as she removed her outer layer and laid it over the nearest stall door. "With all of the excitement of the day it took longer for Tilda to fall asleep than usual."

He had meant to reassure her that the wait had not bothered him at all, but the words lodged in his throat when he saw what she had hidden beneath her cloak, and he never made it past the first syllable.

She was dressed in plain breeches and a blouse that must have been a size too small, judging by the way it pulled across her chest, and he was at just the right height to get a good look. He forced his eyes back up to her face, and tried to push the inappropriate thoughts aside. He could see the benefit that she would gain from such garments and tried to focus; there would be no worry about loose clothing or the flow of a skirt to get in the way, and that was good thinking on her part.

As the silence stretched out between them he realized what a fool he must look like and rushed to complete his earlier thought. "Not long at all." He held up the block still in his hand. "I was just catching up on a hobby of mine."

She smiled again and her shoulders settled into a more relaxed position at his words. They stood staring at one another until eventually she gestured to the ground beside him. "Is that the sword I'll be practicing with?"

"Hmm?" He looked down to where she had pointed and came back to himself from the trance that he had been lost in. He could have cursed himself for a fool, the way he was behaving. He turned away from her to gather his wits and trade the block and knife for one of the swords. "Yes. Yes, it is." There was no reason for him to be so affected by the sight of a woman in trousers. He had seen plenty of women in trousers, Dwarves and Elves both; but never a human, never this human. That morning all that he had seen was a girl still shedding the last of her youthfulness, but now there was no denying that she was in fact a woman grown. He wondered if it was Bard, Sigrid, or human custom that had her hiding beneath layers of fabric and skirts. The thought of what the King of Dale would do to Fíli if the bowman were to be privy to such thoughts put an end them quite efficiently.

He turned back to Sigrid, determined to be nothing but a gentleman. "Right. The first thing you need to learn is a proper stance." He moved to stand beside her, his right foot forward and arm extended. She mimicked the posture, holding out her empty hand. "Good. That's good. Now, pick a target." He scanned the area in front of them and pointed to a spot between two stall doors. "Right about there. Turn your toes a bit; yes, just like that." He stepped back to get a better look and nodded with satisfaction.

"This is how you should be practicing from now on." She moved her focus from the wall to him but didn't drop her arm. "You'll be working muscles that you may not be used to using, and it will take time to build them up properly." He moved back into position. "This first exercise may look simple, but after a few minutes, it won't feel like it." He began to move the sword forwards and backwards, away from his body and back again, keeping his arm locked in its outright position. "Push through with the wrist, but the movement should come from your forearm." He held out the sword to her. "You try it."

She took the weapon from him carefully and he smiled, unsure if she was afraid to hurt him, herself, or the sword. When she arranged herself back into the stance, he was glad to see that her grip was firm. She began to rock the blade in the way that he had shown her, and he was a bit more than surprised at her control.

"Good. Very good." He watched her movements and let her continue until her cuts began to turn on the swing. "Make sure that you lead with the edge, don't turn the blade. You're more likely to make your opponent angry than do any real damage that way."

The minutes ticked by and stacked higher in number until he could see the strain building on her face. Only once more did he need to correct her form, but she did not falter for a moment. Thorin had been an excellent teacher, but a strict one, and Fíli had practiced that move as a child until his arms had ached. He began to wonder if she would call a halt to the exercise eventually, or simply continue until her arm would no longer be able to hold the weight. The tenacious look on her face had him guessing that it would be the latter.

"That's enough for now." He held out his hand for the sword and she lowered her shaking arm to pass it to him. "This should be a slow build up. It will take time and patience." Her grip had seized while she had been holding the sword and she had to peel her hand away from the hilt one finger at a time. He could well remember the feeling and how sore his forearms had been when he had been the pupil.

He had begun to worry that he had pushed her too hard on her first day, but the look that she gave him put his fears to rest. "That was amazing." Her smile was large and bright. She shook her arm and began to rub it with the other hand, trying to ease the tension.

He gestured for them to sit and set the sword aside. He held his hands out, palms up, to ask for her sore limb. "I'm impressed. You did very well today." She laid her arm in his hands with hardly any hesitation, and he began to massage the swollen muscles. When she winced at the pressure, he paused in his movements. "Too hard?"

This had always been his favorite part of practice as a child. Perhaps it had come from growing up without the love and attention of a father, but the aftercare that Thorin had given to his nephews after each round of tutoring had been a treasured memory for both boys.

She shook her head no and he began to rub again. "It hurts, but, it feels good too. Does that make any sense?"

His thumb found a large knot and he focused his ministrations around it until the muscle was warm and loose.

"I know just what you mean," he reassured her with a smile. He gave her arm one more long rub before releasing it. "And you've never held a sword before?"

She pulled her arm back with a word of gratitude and he made a spinning motion with his finger. When her only response was a bewildered look he elaborated. "Your shoulder too."

Her cheeks pinked just the slightest but she nodded and swiveled around to face away from him. He moved to sit behind her and smoothed his hands over her back, hunting for the tightest muscles. He was surprised by what he found there and was reminded of his earlier question. "You have very strong shoulders," he told her as he began to kneed the tissue. "That will serve you well in your practice." What little tension that had built within her frame began to ease out again and it was not long before her head had lolled forward. "You never did answer my question." She hummed a response and he chuckled, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "You've never had any training at all?"

Her answer was more of a moan than a response and his hands paused as the sound settled low in his belly. He realized how improper the scene would appear from the outside looking in; him touching her so intimately, and her settled between his legs. He withdrew reluctantly and shuffled back, giving her space to turn and face him again. Her eyes were half-lidded and hazy in a way that had him shifting in his seat, and he hoped that she would take no notice to the effect that she was having on him.

She came back to herself in degrees and he tried to distract her before she could give too much thought to how inappropriate they had just been. It was hard for him to remember that humans were much more reserved than he was used to dealing with. While physical closeness was common among Dwarves, regardless of age or gender, she was not a Dwarf, and he could not let himself forget that.

"Previous training?" He asked again.

She shook her head and brushed a stray bit of hair behind her ear. "No, never." She raised one shoulder in indifference. "Just wooden swords with Bain; when he was younger and had no one else to play with."

Fíli prodded her further, half from curiosity and half to keep the conversation going. "You handle a sword better than any beginner I've seen." He was pleased to see her smile return at his compliment. "You have very strong shoulders for a woman, and a human one at that."

"I grew up on a lake," she answered with another half shrug, "I've been casting nets since I was old enough to stand on my own. That's bound to make a difference, I guess."

He made a noise of agreement. His thoughts kept straying back to his hands on her shoulders and the sound that she had made. As the seconds ticked by, and nothing more was said, she rose from the ground to stand. "I should probably be getting back before I'm missed."

He nodded and moved to stand as well, following her to where her cloak had been laid. "You should practice that move as often as you can. Anything that can be gripped as a sword will work in its place; a hammer, or a stick."

"A rolling pin?" She asked as she fastened her cloak about her shoulders.

"Yes, that would do." He held his arms behind his back in a rigid stance to keep himself from fidgeting; he was most definitely not a fidget-er. "That would do nicely, I think."

"So," she pulled the hood up but hesitated to leave. "When should we meet again?"

"Tomorrow," he answered, perhaps a bit too quickly. "To make sure that you are keeping your form." He had enjoyed their time together, even if they had not spoken much. It was nice to have a friendly face and he quite liked her company. She was definitely a better companion than the Dwarves he would be spending every moment of every day with for the foreseeable future.

She nodded, and with one last smile, slipped back out into the darkness. He watched her until she rounded a corner and his eyes were drawn in the direction of the mountain. He could not see it that night, with the clouds hung low and no light from moon or stars to highlight it's peak; but he could feel it's pull just the same, and he wondered how the others were fairing.

**********

Kíli had not seen Tauriel since she had left her room that morning. They had talked long over breakfast about the pros and cons of continuing her work helping Óin. Kíli had argued that she owed nothing to anyone and could spend her time as she so chose, but she had only smiled and laid a soft kiss on his brow. He had worried that she would get lost along the way, but she had brushed aside his concern, tucked him into her bed, and set off early on her own. She was unused to having free time and liked the thought of being useful, even in a small way.

In the end, having her busy had been advantageous to him, as he then had the time he needed to sneak away for work of his own. He also felt better knowing that she would be near to one of the few Dwarves that would not treat her poorly, nor would the healer allow others to do so in his presence; though, that was assuming the old man could hear what was going on around him. She had given Kíli strict orders, before setting out, for him to stay in bed and rest; and he had for a time. But he was unused to idle time as well and had left for the day soon after.

When he had gone to collect her for supper that evening and she had not been in the Hall of Healing, or her room, or even his own, he had begun to worry. Two hours of fruitless scouring and he was near to frantic. He had searched everywhere that he could think of to look, with no trace of her and no helpful answers to his inquiries from those that he had passed. The mountain was huge and much of it was still a danger to any who would traverse its corridors alone; if she had gone exploring, she could have been lost, or trapped, or injured, or worse.

He had ventured to the upper levels in his desperation and had come upon a Dwarf of the Iron Hills trying and failing to look inconspicuous at the entrance to an empty corridor. The hairs on the back of Kíli's neck stood on end and he marched towards the man with a purpose.

"You're a bit far from the main floors." The accusation was clear in his voice, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. "What are you doing up here?"

The Dwarf looked distinctly uncomfortable, and raised one hand to scratch at the back of his hairy head. "Jus', keepin' a look out. 'S nothing wrong with tha'."

Kíli took a threatening step forward and his tone turned cold. "Looking out for what?"

"It wasn't my idea." The bottom dropped out from Kíli's stomach as his imagination jumped from one horrible conclusion to the next. "It's jus' not righ', having an Elf in a Dwarven Mountain." The other Dwarf eyed him warily as the fear in Kíli turned to fury.

The prince reached for his sword on reflex, and cursed himself for not thinking to bring one on his search. He grabbed the other man by the shirt collar, instead, and shook him with as much force as he could muster. "What have you done with her," he snarled.

"I haven' dun nothin'." The man shoved Kíli away with enough force to break his hold. "I'm jus' supposed ta watch 'er, make sure doesn' cause any trouble."

It took a moment for the words to penetrate through the red haze that surrounded Kíli, but when they did, he felt a rush of relief. "Watch her?" Then the meaning of those words sank in, and his relief turned to indignation. "You've been following Tauriel? Under who's orders?"

"It's no' righ'," the guard stated again with a sneer, and Kíli could feel his anger rising once more.

"Get out," his voice was calm and quiet but there was a storm brewing inside of him. He was sick to death of the whispers and looks that he had been receiving all day. He could only imagine the scorn and resentment that Tauriel had been subjected to for the past week and it made his blood boil all the hotter.

When the other Dwarf did not move, Kíli shoved him in the direction of the hall's entrance. "Get out," he shouted, "and tell Dáin, the next time he wants to send spies I'll not be so forgiving."

The man seemed surprised at the prince's heated outburst and hesitated for only a moment before turning on his heel and beating a hasty retreat. Kíli closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. This was not how he had wanted to start the night. He only hoped that Tauriel had not heard his shouting.

When his breathing had evened out again and the adrenaline had mostly left his system, Kíli walked through the archway the Dwarf had been guarding and followed the hall until one side opened onto a balcony. Tauriel stood, looking out into the night, and a flutter of trepidation coiled around his spine. Thorin's words from the night before repeated in his head and Kíli feared that his love was already regretting her decision to stay with him.

"The stars are hidden from me tonight." She turned her gaze away from the sky and cast him a look over her shoulder.

He could think of nothing to say and so stayed silent. She lifted one hand from the railing, holding it out to him, and he pushed away all thoughts of his uncle, and Dáin, and the others as he reached to accept it, joining her at the barrier. Just the simple act of their hands meeting soothed his frayed nerves and he breathed easier than he had since his search for her had begun that evening. He let his gaze drift out over the land. He could just make out spots of light in the distance, beacons where the night watch of Dale had lit braziers on the high wall. His thoughts drifted to his brother and how he might be fairing in the city of Men. He hoped that Fíli would be able to find some comfort, surrounded as he was by strangers. They had never really been apart before, not for any extended period of time, and he wondered how long it would take for the repairs of Dale to be finished.

"This is the first chance that I have had to see the stars again," she looked down to him and he was surprised to see a shy tilt to her smile. "I was afraid that if I stepped foot outside of the mountain, even for a moment, the doors would be locked behind me, and I would not be allowed back in."

He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "Never," he promised. "This mountain is your home now, for however long you want it."

Her smile grew at his words before she looked back out over the railing. He dug his free hand into his pocket and closed his fingers around the object that resided there.

"Tauriel." She turned her head to look at him and he used their joined hands to pull her completely around to face him. "I've something I want to ask you."

She tilted her head at an inquiring angle and waited for him to speak.

"I know we've only talked about this briefly, and we've so much still to figure out. But I know that I love you, and now I know that you love me too, and really that's all that I need to know." He was rambling now and smiling like an idiot, but he was not quite sure how else to go about this. He pulled the small box from his pocket and released her hand to lift the lid away. Inside lay two gleaming white-silver beads carved with an interlacing pattern. "Would you do me the privilege of becoming my wife?"

She stood rooted, as unmoving as the trees of her banished home, and he began to fear that his mother had been correct about his reckless nature.

"We can wait as long as you want," he hoped that he did not sound as desperate as he felt, "as long as you need. One year. Two. A lifetime. I don't care." He forced himself to take a deep breath. "So long as I get to spend it with you."

Finally, she moved one hand to brush against the tokens, and it was with a stricken look that she met his eyes. "But I have never learned the craft of metal working and can make nothing for you in return."

He shrugged his shoulders, trying and failing to make the move look nonchalant. "I don't care. You could offer me the lace from your boot and I would wear it round my neck proudly."

She smiled and he could see a shine to her eyes. Without looking away she raised her hands to her nape. When she brought them forwards again she had a delicate chain pinched between her fingers and his eyes were drawn to the charm that had been hidden beneath her collar; a crystal star suspended in the silver outline of a tear drop. It was beautiful.

"It is all that I have," she whispered, "and I would gladly give it to you as my token."

"So that's a yes?" He was already smiling widely enough to split his face, but he needed to hear the words to be sure.

"Yes." She was laughing at him now, and he did not care. She moved her arms around him to fix the clasp about his neck and he ducked his head to give her better access. She pulled his hair out from beneath the chain and let her hands follow it around to where they met over his heart before laying a soft kiss on his lips.

When they pulled apart she cast a quick look down to the beads still held in his palm. "Would you put them in for me?"

He nodded and they settled together onto the ground. He lifted his hands to her hair with a shaking breath. Braiding hair, for Dwarves, was a special and meaningful act, but he could explain all of that to her later; for now, he just wanted to focus on the feel of her hair through his fingers. He knew exactly where he wanted the beads to go and selected one of the strands that framed her face; his token, his crest, braided into her hair with his own hands, obvious for everyone to see. The thought filled him with a warmth that he had come to associate with Tauriel. There would be no question, as well, as to where the charm around his neck had come from, or its meaning. They were laying claim to each other, formally, as was the custom of Dwarves.

He only hoped that Dain's men would recognize the promise as seriously as it was meant to be and cease their persecution of Tauriel. Even removed from succession as he was now, he was still of the royal line. With her as his betrothed, any action taken against her would be an act against himself, and by extension, his entire family; king included. An attack against her now would be paramount to treason, and as such, a prelude to war. He truly hoped that it would not come to that, but he would stop at nothing to keep her safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love a good Dworin bromance, it makes me smile. Again, Youtube is my source for knowledge on all things to do with weapons and combat. I'm sticking with quarterstaffs, not quarterstaves because 'ffs', and I want to. Nyah.
> 
> Zê'mim Imgam is Khuzdul and is based on the saber move Moulinette, which means Little Windmill (it's the closest that I could find). Links again, are on my LJ and include two beginner one handed sword training videos, two on quarterstaffs, and one choreographed fight that was used as the template for Thorin and Dwalin's spar.


	7. Chapter 7

The plate of Thorin's breakfast sat untouched on the far corner of his desk. He had enjoyed only marginally better success ignoring the meal than he had the Dwarf who sat across from him. Arms crossed and a scowl upon his face, Balin was a force to be reckoned with, even in his silence. Thorin could feel the steady glare pounding down upon him and found himself concentrating more on not acknowledging his most trusted advisor, then actually getting any work done.

"Speak," he ordered without looking up, letting irritation bleed into his tone. He shuffled a few of the papers in front of him out of principal; he may not have actually been reading the words on the page, but that did not mean that he would admit to being distracted.

Balin heaved a heavy sigh but held his tongue. A tired hand rubbed at the bridge of Thorin's nose and he knew that any reprieve he sought would not be found until the other man had been satisfied. Though he may have earned his crown and become king, some things would never change.

Thorin gave up all pretense and sat back in his chair as he sent a glare of his own to the white haired Dwarf.

"Quite the beautiful day we're having, is it not?" Balin had not loosened his posture one bit, despite his casual tone.

The younger Dwarf huffed a laugh in disbelief and forced himself to play along. "Is it?" Balin had never been one to waste his time without good reason.

"Aye, very much so," the crossed arms loosened and the older man leaned forward to rest one arm on the desk. "You should go and see it for yourself. Sunlight and fresh air would do you a bit of good."

A grin of satisfaction appeared on the king's face, "I see," and vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. "And who would attend to the matters at hand while I am out frolicking in the fields?"

Balin refused to be baited and that only annoyed the younger man more. "It will all still be here awaiting your most illustrious return. Of that, you have my word."

Before a retort could be given the door to Thorin's office was opened and the other half of his oldest comrades stepped through. The brothers nodded a greeting and then Dwalin pinned his stare on the king. "You need ta come with me."

The hulk of a Dwarf did not wait for an answer before turning back to the door and moving into the hallway. Had he been more rested, Thorin might have taken offense to being ordered about in his own kingdom; but with tension running high all around, and the threat of a coup always on his mind, the king rose without a word and followed after his friend.

He barely noticed Balin trailing after them as they marched through the long halls and open passages of the mountain; up and around until they were nearing the armory. Dwalin's pace was steady and strong, but not rushed, and the king found himself wondering. If there were to be an attack, the warrior would not have been so relaxed, or as relaxed as that particular Dwarf had ever been, but why else would they be heading for weaponry?

When they passed through the doorway and into the room proper, Dwalin made straight for a rack of pole arms and selected two quarterstaffs. He tossed one to Thorin, who caught it with ease, before continuing through to the practice arena. The area was not as large as the full arena would be, once they dug through the rubble to find it again, but it was plenty big enough for two Dwarves to let off steam.

Dwalin cracked his neck as he turned to face Thorin, and gestured towards the other man with the end of his staff. "You may want to shed some layers," he warned in a taunting voice, "and leave that shiny crown at the door. I'd hate to put a dent in it."

The feel of the wood in Thorin's hands was rejuvenating after having only wielded a quill and ink for the past week. He had always been a man of action, and the bureaucracy that he had been drowning in of late was one of the many sources of stress upon him. Even with his wounds mostly healed, the thought of a fight had him feeling more himself since they had first taken the mountain.

He hefted the pole in his hand and all thoughts of returning to his work vanished with a feral grin. "You'd have to land a blow, for that to be a possibility."

Dwalin barked a laugh as Thorin shed his robe and crown, laying them on the bench next to where Balin had parked himself. The old man looked far too smug for the king's liking, and when he sent the younger Dwarf a wink, Thorin realized that he had been had. It would seem that bashing each other about with large sticks would suffice in place of sunlight and fresh air. Whatever the reason, he was glad of the reprieve.

The two fighters took up positions facing one another, hands on staffs, and slowly circling the other. Dwalin struck first, swinging down from above in a feint before striking upwards from below with the rear of the staff. Falling for the bluff, Thorin almost missed defending the lower strike and had to move fast to block it. Frustrated at himself for not seeing the ruse for what it was, he knocked Dwalin's staff away and lunged the tip of his own forward, towards the other Dwarf's head. The warrior blocked and used the momentum to knock Thorin's weapon off track and away.

"I saw the Elf this morning." Sometimes Dwalin was too much like his brother, and Thorin groaned internally at the casual tone. "Interesting choice in accessories she has now."

Dwalin moved forward with a downward swing but Thorin stepped wide and the attack missed. Taking advantage of the opening, the king swung at the warriors back. Dwalin swept his weapon from front to back, low, and brought both poles over his head in an arc. He turned and aimed a wide swing towards Thorin's head, but the king ducked and let the staff sail over him before knocking Dwalin in the gut with the flat of his own.

"That boy will be the death of me," Thorin growled, but could not muster the disdain that such a comment would warrant. The thrill of moving again, of taking action, was singing through his veins.

They circled again, each looking for an opening in the other's stance.

Balin spoke up from his seat. "He misses his brother and is desperate to hold onto whomever he can. You could have sent them both to Dale; all three even. It would have gotten him well away from Dáin and that would only have been a blessing."

Thorin attacked, left, then right, in quick succession, barely acknowledging when Dwalin met each strike with a crack of his staff. "They are no longer children. They need to learn to separate." He could see the next attack coming high and swept his pole to block, then down and around, striking low left, then right, and again. He thought of his own brother, Frerin, and how the pain of that loss had not dulled over all of the years. Fíli and Kíli were so much closer than he and his brother had been and he feared that to lose one of them would be to lose them both. Watching his nephews over the past week had made that all too abundantly clear.

Balin spoke over the grunts of attacks and thwacks of the staffs. "Not you, nor I, nor any of us could replace the father that they lost so long ago. And in all of that time they have only had each other as a constant in their lives."

Dwalin moved to block each oncoming strike, losing ground with each swing. "Those two are not the only one's ta have lost a father." His tone was harsh as he pushed forward with a low attack.

"Aye, but some were younger than others." Balin sent his brother a reproving look, though he knew the other would not see it. "Kíli was not even old enough to hold a memory of him when their father passed."

Thorin swept his staff up to block and knocked away Dwalin's weapon, using the opening to swing at the other's head. "That still does not change the fact that they are grown now, and must learn to lead their own lives." His staff had gone over the warrior's head and he had to jump back to avoid taking a blow to his middle. Thorin used his leverage to knock his opponent's staff further away before lunging with a thrust to Dwalin's chest. The warrior parried easily before they broke apart to circle once again.

"And is that not what your young nephew is doing now?" Balin's tone was more than reasonable, which made the words all the more aggravating. "Trying to lead his own life?"

"Is that what he is doing? And here I thought that he was trying to send me to an early grave." Thorin took his eyes away from his opponent just long enough to glare at his advisor. "At least his brother has enough good sense to rule when I am gone."

"Which might be sooner than you think." Dwalin used the moment of distraction to press his attack. "If you don't pay attention." Using both ends of the staff, left, then right, and again, he forced Thorin to retreat.

The king blocked every blow and stepped into the last strike, swinging down and forcing both staff tips to the ground. The move brought the fighters shoulder to shoulder, and without hesitation, Thorin swept his staff back up, straight into Dwalin's face and sent the other Dwarf staggering.

The space was quiet for a breath before the sound of laughter filled the silence; the carefree sound of shield-brothers bonding on adrenaline. Thorin leaned on his staff, a smile on his face for the first time in too long.

"I hear that Dáin has calmed down a bit, as well." At Balin's words, Thorin was reminded again of the responsibility that awaited him outside of the sanctuary of the arena. "Though I think it wise for you to continue to avoid him for the time being."

The short lived smile on Thorin's face retreated once more, and he could feel the mantle of his title weighing down upon him. "It is my own fault for allowing him to rest in these halls to begin with."

Dwalin took a seat where he had been standing, his arms resting on bent knees. "What did he do, exactly, that has put you so on edge?"

"He does not need to do anything. I hear the whispers. I see the looks." Thorin's broad shoulders curled inward with guilt as his eyes lost focus. "I should have sent him away as soon as the battle was won. That treasure is a curse upon us all and those of Durin's blood feel it's pull the strongest." He turned his eyes to search the brothers before him. "Do you not hear it calling to you?" At their blank stares, he shook his head. "If not for the promise made in Lake-town, I would not have sent an ounce to Dale. I fear it will do them more harm than good."

Balin sent his brother a side look that did not go unnoticed by the king and his guilt lit to anger like oil in a lamp. "I am not my grandfather, do not look to me as if I am. I have felt the Dragon Sickness. I have fought it, and I have won! But do not think that I am the only Dwarf in Erebor to be susceptible to it's lure."

Dwalin would not meet Thorin's eye and Balin heaved a great breath before answering. "No one knows when the caravans from the Blue Mountains will arrive. But if greater numbers would ease your mind, why not invite the Men of Dale? Bring the would-be craftsmen here, to teach them the ways of forge and stone. From what I saw of Lake-town, they could use all the help that they can get. And it would even our numbers that much further."

Thorin nodded as he thought on the suggestion. In a fight, one Dwarf was easily worth at least ten Men, but it was truly the only option left to them. "See that it is done."

Balin nodded and Dwalin still would not meet his gaze.

Thorin hoped that his forefathers could forgive him; first an Elf, and now Men living in Erebor. Knowing that the later would only be temporary, did not lessen the shame that twisted inside of him. It had been his grandfather who's greed had lost them the mountain, and his own that had nearly kept them from retaining it after it's reclamation.

The king gathered his things and left the brothers in the arena, lost in his thoughts. The gold in the mountain was tainted, of that he had no doubt, and he had not set foot in the treasury since before the battle because of it. What he had yet to find was a cure; how did one go about lifting a curse?

**********

The days flowed one into the other for Fíli, each following much the same pattern. Until one evening while waiting for Sigrid, he realized that a fortnight had passed. Rumors had spread throughout Dale of the Mountain King's invitation to Men and Fíli had been surprised at first, more so even at Bard's reluctance to accept. But, the Dwarves had not been sent to the city for politics, and Fíli had spent little time thinking on anything other than the repairs in front of him.

The outer wall of Dale was soon to be finished and the Dwarves would start their work on the city itself within days. Each afternoon brought a visit from the King's daughters, and on the rare occasion when he could break away from training at the garrison, Bain would come as well. Fíli enjoyed each visit from Bard's children, but looked forward to the nights the most; when he and Sigrid were alone and the pressures of their stations were left at the door. During their time together he did not have to be a visiting envoy, or an example to the other Dwarves, or even the heir to the throne of Erebor; he was simply a friend who was good with a sword, quick to laugh, and who missed his brother terribly.

He was just putting the finishing touches on the carving that he had started that first night, when Sigrid joined him for the evening. He tucked the bit of wood away and stood with a happy greeting.

She was quick to shed her cloak and join him, her excitement for their session barely restrained.

"Tonight," she questioned without preamble and he chuckled at her enthusiasm. Tonight she would begin her formal training and move beyond the basic muscle building skills. At his nod her smile bloomed in full and he found himself basking in it as if she were the lone lantern in a deep cave.

She was near to bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation and moved to collect his swords from where they lay. During the time that they had shared together over the past two weeks they had spent as much time trading words as they had practicing with swords. This was not the Lady of Dale that stood before him, but Sigrid, his dear friend. In this space, with just the two of them, she was more open and free with her speech and manner than when they were together during the day, and he had come to appreciate their sessions more and more. It reminded him of being young in Ered Luin and brought to him a sense of comfort that he had not realized he had been missing.

Sigrid passed him one of the swords with a smile and he slipped easily into the role of the trainer.

Holding his sword in the starting position, he took a step back to increase the distance between them. "For now, make sure that your spare hand is out of the way." He laid his own against his chest and she mimicked the movement. "Rotate the wrist, down, around, and back again." He moved his sword forward and away, as he had shown her that first night, but instead of drawing back, he allowed the blade to follow through; down towards the ground, then around and past him, back up behind with a twist of the wrist and forward past his face. "This is called Zê'mim Imgam. It means 'first little circle'."

She had been following along with his movements, but could not seem to get her wrist to turn correctly on the way back up. When she repeated the same mistake again he stopped her. "Hold on," he cast his eyes about the area, searching for something to stand on, "give me a moment." With their differences in height it would be difficult to help her without a slight boost. Luckily, he had moved a few items into the large space when it had become clear that their meetings would be a regular occurrence, and the crate that he had used was just about the right size.

She watched him as he collected his makeshift stool, but did not question him as he settled it behind her and stepped atop it. Instead she laughed at him and he smiled, not sure if she could not contain her amusement, or if she simply did not feel the need. Either way, he enjoyed the sound and took no offense.

"And just what is so funny, little girl," he teased. From this vantage, he was just a hair taller than her and she smiled up at him in a way that he could grow quite used to.

"Who are you calling little," she taunted with a cheeky grin.

He arched an eyebrow and motioned for her to face away once again. She sent him a look through her lashes as she turned around, the smile far from gone on her face. Once again in the starting position, she moved her free arm to lay across her chest. He reached for the hand that held the sword and she had to bend her elbow just slightly in order for him to reach it. He had never felt self-conscious about his size before, not once in his life, but in this moment he would have appreciated the longer limbs. He wrapped his hand around her own, his grip over hers on the hilt. He took a deep breath before wrapping his other arm around her, following the curve of her own arm across her chest and pulling her against him more firmly.

"Close your eyes," He whispered into her ear and she stiffened in his embrace for just a moment before taking a deep breath of her own. As she released it, her body relaxed and he felt a rush of pride at her trust in him. He tightened his grip over hers on the hilt and moved the sword through the twists and turns of the exercise. Over and over they repeated the motion until it was flawless.

"Can you feel it?" His voice had deepened without his meaning to. "The flow of it?" He slowed their movement to a stop, letting their arms hang by their sides. He threaded the fingers of his free hand through her own and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Yes. I can feel it." Her answer was breathless and he could not stop the smirk that spread across his face. She cleared her throat before continuing in a soft voice. "I think that I've got it now."

The words were past his lips before he could think better of them and he whispered into her neck, "And I've got you."

"Oh?" Her tone was more surprised than teasing and he lifted his head away, not sure if he should be confused or insulted. "Are you flirting with me, Master Dwarf?"

He had not meant to, but had been fighting the urge since nearly their first day training. He huffed a laugh; half disbelief, half wounded pride. "If you have to ask, then I must be more out of practice than I had thought." Now that he had crossed the line, he would not deny that it had happened.

She twittered a laugh of her own and leaned her head back onto his shoulder to meet his eyes. "Not at all." Her cheeks pinked in the way that he enjoyed so much. "Only; I did not think that Dwarves cared for the fairer sex."

He laughed outright at the ridiculous thought. "Whatever would have given you that idea?" At his outburst, her blush spread to cover her entire face and he had the sudden urge to lay his cheek upon her own to feel the heat of it. "I confess, I have turned many a pretty maid's head in my time, Dwarven and not."

"Dwarven maids?" She pulled away from him and he let her go, though it was the opposite of what he wanted. "I did not think such a thing existed." She settled the blade on the ground before turning to face him fully and with only a slight hesitation, rested her hands on his chest. He covered her hands with his own, threading his fingers through hers once more. "Are you not mined from the earth fully formed as the legends say?"

He chuckled, a deep and heartfelt sound."Goodness no." Here he dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned in towards her. "I'll let you in on a secret of my people." She leaned forwards as well, a mischievous smile on her face, and leaving hardly any space between them. "Dwarven women are our greatest treasure, guarded more fiercely than all the gold and mithril to be found. That is why they are so rarely seen." He closed the distance to brush her nose with his own before pulling away again. "That, and not many outside of Dwarves can distinguish them from men when they do go out."

She breathed a laugh and there was a light to her eyes that had not been in them before. "So, if I were to do this," and she brushed her lips against his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, "then you would know what it means?" Her smile was coy now, and he had to remind himself that she was still young, and had likely never had a suitor before.

"I would think that you need more practice with your aim, My lady." His smirk took on an impish tilt. "I believe that you have missed your target."

He watched as her blush spread further down, past the collar of her shirt, and before he could think to steal a kiss for himself, Sigrid had sealed her lips over his. She was too forceful and their teeth clacked together at first, but Fíli was nothing if not a patient teacher. He shifted his head to a better angle and took control of the kiss, softening the motions. He pulled her hands up to settle on his shoulders before moving his own to her waist and pulling her closer. She shuffled forwards until her feet hit the crate that he was standing on. The noise was soft, but the motion was jarring, and she pulled away and took several steps back; her breath coming in little puffs. He stepped down to the ground but did not approach her, unsure of where this change now left them.

She closed her eyes and drew in a shaking breath before meeting his gaze again. "I've been wanting to do that for ages now."

He did not hold back the smile that her words evoked and was pleased to see a matching one cross her face. "Me too." His expression dimmed before before either of them could move and he cursed himself and his sense of duty. "But I need you to understand our situation." The words hurt him to say, but he forced them out, "I do care about you, Sigrid. But I am Heir to the Mountain and you are the Lady of Dale," for the first time in a long time, he found himself wishing the responsibility was someone else's to bear, "and no matter what we may want for ourselves, I can make you no promises."

He waited for her answer with held breath and told himself that it was good for her to think long on the matter. Finally she nodded. It was with overwhelming relief that he took her hand when she offered it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that I know about sword training I have learned from 2 Youtube videos, the links of which are posted on my Livejournal.
> 
> I have an image of Tauriel with her hair braided and beaded that I'll be posting to LJ and Tumblr, and the necklace is actually something made for the movies, even though they never show it. You can find it by googling 'Tauriel's necklace'.


	8. Chapter 8

Fíli had been invited to the king's house a handful of times in the month that he had been staying in Dale, but this was the first visit to fill him with trepidation. Sigrid and he had been careful to keep the change in their relationship hidden, for a multitude of reasons; expectations, responsibilities, judgments. As he made his way through the frozen city he could not help but wonder if Bard had somehow found out regardless.

Fíli knew enough about the customs of Men to understand the differences in what was acceptable for a casual courtship. Where Dwarves had no issue with a romp or two and then a fond farewell, he would be hard pressed to find a human who would be so understanding. He had no desire to hurt Sigrid; in fact, his affection for her had only grown over their time together. Because of this, Fíli had been firm on his decision to go no further than kisses and caresses, though she did like to test his resolve. Her father, of course, would have no reason to assume their innocence.

By the time that Fíli had found his way to Bard's door he had convinced himself that the bowman suspected the worst, and had not called him in for an interrogation so much as a reckoning. He desperately wished for Kíli by his side as he was unused to going into battle alone.

When he entered, the Man was standing by the window and looking out over the sprawl that was his new kingdom. He turned to greet Fíli with a smile before motioning for them both to sit by the fire. The Dwarf was somewhat caught off balance by the friendly display, but settled into the cushioned seat none the less.

There was a mismatched tea service waiting for them on a side table and Bard poured them both a cup before proceeding. “I'm sure you are curious as to why I called you here.”

Fíli almost declined the beverage, unsure if it would be safe to drink. Who knew to what extents a father would go if he believed his daughter to have been dishonored. The thought was dismissed for the foolishness that it was and Fíli accepted the offering with only the slightest of hesitation. He sipped from his cup before answering and could not help the smile on his face as the flavor passed over his tongue. Sigrid had made this tea, he was sure of it, and she had prepared it just the way that he liked.

Deciding it was best to let Bard lead the conversation, he answered with a neutral response. “Are you wanting an update on the construction?”

Bard shook his head. “Quite the opposite actually. How would you feel about a break from the work?” The king smiled as he relaxed back into his chair. “While my people appreciate the gold that has come to us, it will not fill our bellies or keep us warm throughout the winter. With that in mind, a rider was sent to the nearest cities to spread word of the death of Smaug.”

Bard took a sip from his cup and grimaced at the taste. Fíli did well to hold back his chuckle. It would seem that he and the bowman did not take their brew quite the same and Sigrid was playing favorites.

The king set his cup aside before continuing. “Trade has always been slowest in the winter, but if we can establish it now, come spring, it should flourish. Our messenger returned three days ago with news.” He sat back in his chair and folded his hands together. “There will be a small caravan coming from Edoras with goods to trade. They should be arriving in a weeks time and I have thought to hold a festival while they are here.”

Fíli drank again from his tea before he nodded his assent, relieved beyond measure that the conversation had not gone the way that he had been dreading. “I think that is a wonderful idea. I assume that you want me to bring this news to Erebor?”

“I do.” The lines around Bard's eyes stood out as his face pinched, and a bit of that wariness returned to Fíli. “I have already heard back from King Thranduil and he is in agreement as well. This would be a celebration for all the races. A Festival of Returns; we Men to Dale, you Dwarves to your mountain, and long sought items to their rightful owners.”

He did not have to clarify for Fíli, the look Bard sent him spoke well enough. “All that I can promise is to try.” Though the Sickness had passed him, there was no guarantee that his uncle would agree to part with the gems that the Elf King so desperately craved.

“And I can ask no more than that.” Bard nodded in understanding. “We in Dale can offer little, as we have little ourselves, but we have room to spare. And the Woodland Realm has promised a feast, food enough for three kingdoms.”

Fíli's brows rose in surprise at so generous an offering. It was no great shock that the Elf king had stores in abundance, but to so freely extend it to Dwarves; that was a cause for celebration. Knowing that his uncle would agree, Fíli made his own offer. “The ale has gone a bit flat in the mountain, but the wine has aged to perfection. I'm sure that we can spare enough to go 'round.”

Bard grinned and nodded. “That would be most generous. I thank you and your kin.” Apparently deciding that the formalities were over, the bowman leaned forward to rest both elbows on his knees. “There is one other thing. Tell me, have you noticed anything odd about my Sigrid lately? She has been in the strangest of moods and has taken to playing with the rolling pin.” The man raised a brow as Fíli began to sputter on an ill timed drink of his tea.

**********

The mountain had changed drastically in the short time that the Dwarves had taken up residence again. With most of the structural repairs done, the cleaning had begun in earnest. Kíli had been saved from broom and mop by being one of the few Dwarves willing to take on human apprentices. He had acclimated well to the role of instructor, enjoying the chance to work with a forge again and finding that he very much liked the idea of helping others to better themselves. The Men who had been assigned to him had, for the most part, been quick studies and thankful for the opportunity. Although, there had been a handful who had not realized that he could hear their hushed mutterings. They had learned fast that Dwarf ears were large for more than just aesthetics. He had not been too surprised to find out that not all of the Men of Dale were happy to see Dwarves in the mountain once again. Though Dale and Erebor had lived side-by-side in peace long ago, time had done well to separate the two races.

He put the thought aside as he crossed the wide open space of the Forges to head for the workbench that he had commandeered. There was some time before supper, and he planned to use every spare bit of it to tinker on his current project.

He hoped that Tauriel would appreciate his gift. Her daggers had been lost on Ravenhill and, even with his company, she had been reluctant to venture outside to retrieve them. He huffed a rueful laugh at the thought. It was probably because of his company that she refused to go. Though the heavy snows had held off so far, the chill in the air held more bite than an ice dragon's breath. His wounds had long since healed, and Dwarves did not feel the cold as easily as a human would, but still, Tauriel could not seem to help but worry over him.

A rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder and swung him around without warning. Immediately on the defensive, Kíli raised both fists, ready to block or strike, as needed. What he found was empty air. Turning full circle brought him face to face with the last person that he had expected.

“A bit twitchy there, eh brother?”

“Fíli.” He pulled the other Dwarf into a fierce embrace. “What are you doing here?”

The blond Dwarf clapped him on the back before holding him out at arms length. “I've gone from hero to builder to messenger, it would seem.” Blue eyes caught fast on the pendent hanging around Kíli's neck and Fíli smiled a knowing smile. “Though I can see that you have news of your own to share.”

It was nice to have a welcome reception to the discovery of his betrothal, though he was sure that his brother had been expecting it to happen eventually. Kíli had the urge to pull him close once again, but instead he let his smile bleed into a smirk. He cast a quick glance to the far end of the Forges where the entrance to the mines lay sealed before meeting Fíli's gaze with a single raised eyebrow. “Want to get into a bit of trouble?” The presence of his brother brought with it a sudden change in plans for the evening.

Fíli gave a rueful laugh and ruffled his brother's hair. “Better with me there than alone, as Mother always says.”

Kíli accepted the abuse with a wide smile and a wrinkle of his nose. He had always hated when his brother messed with his hair, but having been without his other half for so long, the gesture was almost a welcome one.

It was easy enough to find lanterns to take with them into the dark tunnel, and it took both of them to lift the bar away that sealed one of the smaller entrances to the mines. 171 years had been a long time for the mountain to have been abandoned and all manner of creature had taken up residence in the dark. Kíli had been itching to find his way down there for some time now, but had been reluctant to go it alone. Had Fíli not been sent to Dale, they would most likely have found their way in much sooner.

The tunnel before them was longer than Kíli had expected and curved in a way that did not show it's end. The light from their lanterns did not spread very far ahead of them and it was with slow and cautious steps that they proceeded. They each had grabbed a pick ax before setting out, presumably for defense, though Kíli was being ever watchful for a ripe vein of good iron to pluck from.

“So,” Fíli was the first to break the silence and Kíli counted it as a victory. Stealth would be the best precaution in their circumstance, but he would be lying if he said that he enjoyed the quiet. “It looks like Tauriel is finding her place.” At Kíli's confused look, his brother elaborated. “I had a number of errands to run when I first got back and I saw her in the Healing Hall. With Ori?”

Kíli nearly pulled a muscle rolling his eyes. “I swear, he's been following her around like a pup for weeks.” He shook his head in exasperation. “Apparently she's an entirely new source of information for him and all he does, all day long, is ask her questions.”

Fíli cast a quizzical look at his brothers rankled tone. “Isn't that a good thing? That she's beginning to be accepted?”

“It's annoying is what it is.” Kíli could not keep the whining tone out of his voice, though he tried. “Óin complains if I try to steal her away for even a moment, Bombur's been hounding her for Elvish recipes, and I can't tell if Dori is sweet on her or just being a ponce.” His voice went up two octaves in a poor imitation of their friend. “'Would you like tea, Tauriel?' 'How 'bout a biscuit, Tauriel?' It's driving me mental.” Truth be told, he was very happy to see her being welcomed by the others, but it had been so much easier to find a moment alone with her when no one else had been seeking her attention.

A noise up ahead brought both Dwarves to a stop and Kíli strained to hear movement. When there was no other sound and no threat bearing down on them, the two started forward again.

Fíli's voice was softer when he asked, “How did you first know that she was the One for you?”

Kíli looked to his brother in surprise for a moment, trying to understand where the question had come from. It took him a moment more to think about how to answer. “Do you remember the first time you were let near to a forge? The overwhelming heat of it? The power and beauty and fear? Knowing that to get too close could cause untold pain, but also unlimited wonder. She is that for me.”

His brother was quiet as he thought on the words. “So, you knew from the beginning then? From the moment you first saw her?”

If he had not enjoyed talking about Tauriel so much, Kíli may have questioned as to why his brother was asking. As it was, he answered without hesitation. “The first time I saw her, she was breathtaking. You should have seen her. The way she swept in, skipping down spiders like they were stones in a stream; the way she danced between blade and bow. She was amazing. And after, standing there, chest heaving and exhilarated from the fight... She was beyond beautiful, she was... everything.” The dreamy quality of his voice bled away to wry amusement. “I'm telling you, if Ori had been there he would have written epic tales about her.”

The tunnel gave way to a wide ledge and an open cavern. The brothers nodded to one another without a word and separated to scout out the area. Above him, Kíli could see boatswain's chair's hanging on the rock face and he wondered at the Dwarves that had been working in the mines when Smaug had made his attack. The cliff continued down below them with more of the seats dangling. He was disappointed to find that his search yielded no sign of iron, though that was not too much of a surprise. Until the mines were opened again, the only ore available to use was the abandoned mineral from when the Dwarves had fled the mountain, so long ago. He had been avoiding the use of it, knowing that the stores would be wanted for repairs and training, but it would seem that he would have no other choice.

He needed to make those daggers, for himself as much as for Tauriel. He had seen the twitch of her hands on more than one occasion and knowing that she was armed would do wonders to put his mind at ease. Kíli's brow furrowed as he made his way back to the tunnel entrance and his thoughts drifted to the incident that had occurred just days before. Only Tauriel's Elven reflexes had saved her from a split skull that day. Had she not been so light on her feet she would not have been able to dodge the large chunk of rubble had gotten away from the Men and Dwarves who had been working on repairs. The fact that it had happened in the corridor outside of the Healing Hall was just one coincidence too many.

He had been livid when he had found out. The two of them had argued long into the night that evening and, somehow, she had convinced him to promise not pursue the matter. He had given his word, though reluctantly, and it had been declared an accident, though he did not dare to hope that it would be the only one. Dwarves were not a people of deceit and he did not like to think that any of his own kind would stoop so low as to attack from the shadows, but the whole ordeal had put him on edge where Tauriel was concerned.

As he came back to the opening of the tunnel he found Fíli waiting for him. The elder Dwarf had found nothing amiss either and Kíli kicked at a rock on the ground, sending it tumbling into the abyss below.

“I don't know what you're sulking about,” Fíli bumped his shoulder against his brother's, “I, for one, am happy to not have found anything lurking.”

Kíli walked to the edge of the platform and sat, legs dangling over the ledge, to pitch another stone into the darkness. “I was hoping to find something,” He gave a half-hearted shrug, “You have no idea how boring it's been since you've been gone.”

His brother settled next to him and they sat in silence for a handful of long seconds. Still staring out into the nothing, Fíli was again the first to speak. “Kíli,” his tone was too serious, and immediately put Kíli on alert, “I think I may be in trouble.”

The words were spoken low, and the younger Dwarf felt a spike of adrenaline at the thought of his brother in danger. “What kind of trouble?” He could only imagine. Were the Dwarves in Dale just as much of a threat as he suspected the ones in Erebor to be?

A great sigh was heaved and Fíli lay back on the ground before he answered. “Your kind of trouble.”

Kíli did not justify that with a response, only raised a brow and let loose a bubble of laughter in relief. “Does this have anything to do with all those questions from earlier?”

“No,” his brother immediately denied, and then with a small sigh, “yes.” He covered his eyes with one arm before answering the obvious question, “Bard's daughter.”

“Sigrid?” Kíli was not sure how to respond. “Well then.” He could understand better than most the internal battle that his brother was going through. Of course, Fíli seemed to actually be struggling with it, where he, himself, had given in without much of a fight. “She's a bit young, isn't she?”

The arm was lifted away and Fíli sat back up with a glare. “How old is Tauriel again?”

The younger Dwarf lifted both palms in surrender and laughed. “Fair enough.” His smile slipped away to be replaced with a sincere expression. “Do you love her?” His brother did not answer and Kíli did not push the matter. “You'll need to figure that out sooner rather than later.”

Fíli looked to him with a lost expression. It was so unlike his brother that Kíli felt it like a blow to the chest. He was unused to being the one to impart wisdom and so was careful with his words as he spoke. “You grew up on the same stories that I did. We've spent our whole lives wanting to be like the great warriors of old, to live up to those expectations laid upon us.” He shook his head and met his brother's gaze in the lantern light. “Almost dying showed me that glory in battle isn't everything. We have to live our own lives before we can live for others.”

Fíli looked away as he answered. “I cannot betray our people.” His shoulders curled inwards from the weight of his burden. “If I choose to marry outside of our kind then I too will be removed from succession. And then what? Thorin would have no heirs and the future of our people will again be uncertain.”

“Then maybe the king should have his own heirs.” The words were spoken as those of a petulant child and both of them let the comment fall away. “You should have the chance to be happy, responsibilities or no.” He tried to lighten his tone and with it, the mood. “Just be careful. Try not to alienate our nearest allies.”

The joke fell flat and Fíli moved to stand, ready to head back. There was no easy answer here and it hurt to see his brother so despairing.

Kíli had just reached to take his brother's offered hand when he saw the other's eyes widen. At the same time, a painful force clamped down on his foot and Kíli soon found himself pulled tight across the open expanse. His brother still had hold of him and Kíli scrambled to find purchase with his free hand. From his vantage point, he could see the sleek head and pointy antennae of a cave insect; a very large, and presumably very hungry cave insect.

When it's prey was not so easily won, the creature reared up over the ledge, it's tall and narrow body towering over Fíli, with Kíli stretched out between them. Finding himself back over solid ground, albeit the wrong way up, the panicked Dwarf began to beat at the head with his flailing foot, still desperately clutching to the grip of his brother. The pick axes they had brought with them were lying on the ground, but in order to reach for the makeshift weapons Fíli would have to let go of him, and Kíli was not of the mind to let that happen.

The stalemate was broken by a high-pitched screech from above, and both Dwarves were sent crashing to the ground as the insect abruptly let go. It disappeared back over the ledge and they scrambled in reverse, not bothering to grab their picks or lanterns, as a dark blur darted past them at a great speed. Kíli paused at the entrance to the tunnel, curious as to what had scared such a creature, and Fíli turned back after two more steps.

“Are you crazy?” His brother grabbed him by the shoulder, and made as if to drag him out. Kíli shrugged off the hand. “I want to see what it is.”

He did not have long to wait. Seconds later great leathery wings came in to view and for a moment Kíli's heart stopped at the thought of another dragon living in the mountain. But, the body they were connected to was covered in fur and he recognized the bat-like creature for what it was. In it's great talons it held the wriggling insect that had attacked him. It's many legs waving in the open air and it's mandibles biting ineffectually at the beast that carried it. He watched until they passed up and out of sight.

“That was amazing.” He looked to his brother but was met with a face that was less than amused.

“You truly are an idiot.” Fíli shook his head in exasperation. “Now I know why you didn't ask Tauriel to come with you.”

Kíli shook out his foot before they set off down the tunnel, thankful for the heavy leather of his boot. He was not sure what kind of damage the creature would have done to him otherwise, but it seemed that he had survived unscathed.

It was a bit trickier to make their way back without the lanterns, but the tunnel they had chosen did not have any off shoots and it was easy enough to follow along with one hand on the wall.

Kíli cleared his throat before making a request. “Could you maybe not mention this to Tauriel?” He did not need to see his brother to feel the disproving look. “It's just that, she worries. Almost as much as Mum.”

Fíli chuckled at him and Kíli rolled his eyes. “Same rules apply, Little Brother. I'll not lie for you outright, but so long as she doesn't ask, I'll not bring it up.”

They continued in silence for a moment before Kíli put voice to a feeling that had only been growing since he had awoken all of those weeks ago. “She means well, I know that. We've been through a lot in so short a period of time, but I don't need her to protect me.” His voice dipped perilously close to whining again as he added, “I'm not a child.”

Fíli laughed again at that. “Have you talked to her about it? At all?” The tone of the question let Kíli know that he did not need to answer and so he did not. “Kíli,” his brother admonished, “if you don't want her to treat you like a child, then stop acting like one.”

They were getting closer to the entrance again, and Kíli could start to see a growing brightness around the bend. He would need to wash up before finding Tauriel for supper, but should have just enough time to not be late.

He ignored his brother's advice and changed the subject. “How long will you be staying before you head back for Dale?”

There was enough light for him to see his brother cast him a knowing look. “Tomorrow.” Fíli turned his attention back to the pathway with a somber expression. “I have something important that must be dealt with as soon as possible.”

Kíli could feel his heart sink. His brother had always been the one to put responsibilities first and the fact that he had allowed himself to grow so fond of Bard's daughter in the first place spoke volumes about how deeply his feelings actually ran for the girl.

No one deserved happiness more than his brother, and with that in mind, he tried one last time. “You know, a lot could be argued about the benefits of a strong union between Dwarves and Men. The Prince of Erebor and the daughter of the King of Dale. It doesn't get much more official than that.”

He was met with silence. He could only hope that Fíli had learned as he had from their adventures to reclaim the mountain; that a simple life of happiness was worth more than a lonely life of duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peaks around a corner* If you kill me, you won't know what happens next...
> 
> I like to think that Ori and Dori would be the first two to accept Tauriel. Ori, because he's Ori, and as long as she's not trying to get him to eat veggies I think they would get along quite well. And Dori would welcome her refined manners and enjoy being appreciated for once. 
> 
> I've seen a few posts about Dwarven marriage customs, the most in depth being from the Dwarrow Scholar, and I'm veering from the no sex before marriage thing. That doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me based on a few different things. I go into it a bit more on my LJ if anyone is interested.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally the smut in this chapter. You have been warned.

News of the festival spread with surprising speed, and by the day's end it was the talk of the mountain. Tauriel could feel the excitement radiating from Kíli that evening as he told her about the upcoming celebration. She did not have the heart to tell him that she had already heard, nor did he pause long enough for her to get the words out, and so she let him chatter as they made their way to the Great Hall for supper.

They had fallen into the habit of eating late to avoid the largest of the crowds and the baleful looks and hushed whispers that came with them. Late as it was, Tauriel was still surprised that Fíli did not join them. When she questioned the Dwarf at her side he gave an uncomfortable half shrug.

“He's probably moping in his quarters right now.” He flashed his eyes to her for a quick second before busying himself with his plate. “It's nothing to worry about. I'm sure he'll have it sorted soon enough.”

He did not elaborate and she did not push for more, though the mood took on a somber note as they ate. It was several minutes later before the silence was broken again.

“You'll need a new dress. For the Festival.” Kíli's sudden statement had Tauriel blinking at him for a moment before she swallowed the bite in her mouth.

“Yes, I suppose so.” She had not given much thought to clothing since she had come to Erebor. She had always valued function over form, and when her duties had changed with her surroundings, that had carried over as well. Her wardrobe held a number of plain dresses, but nothing so fine as would be expected for a dance.

Her Dwarf was looking far too clever for his own good and she gave a small smile to see his spirit's so improved. “What are you thinking, meleth nín (my love)?”

His lips curled further upwards at the endearment and had there been fewer watchful eyes around them she would have leaned down to him for a kiss.

“I know just where to look to get what you need.” He gave her a wink and turned back to his food.

Tauriel waited for him to elaborate, but after several seconds of watching him shovel food it became clear that he had no intention of doing so. She had never been known for her patience, and among a race renowned for such a trait, it had sometimes made her an outcast. Among the Dwarves, however, it was a virtue.

She knocked him gently with her elbow as he went to take a drink from his tankard. The liquid sloshed over the side just enough to wet his face and she schooled her features into a mask of blank innocence before meeting his gaze. He was trying his best to glare at her, but she could see the corners of his mouth twitch with barely contained amusement.

“And just where do you expect to get what exactly?” Her tone was light with teasing and she could see the twinkle in his eye that showed his own good humor.

She watched as he struggled to hold onto his glower, but the smile that she loved so dearly finally broke through. “You need a dress and there is nowhere to buy one that would fit your frame.” She tilted her head in acknowledgement. “So we'll just have to make you one.”

Both of her eyebrows shot up in astonishment. Whatever she had been expecting, that had not been it. “Even if you could find me the clothe, I would not be able to put together such a garment. Not in so little time.” She shook her head to emphasize her point. “I have only a passing experience with needlework and little skill.”

“I could do it,” came out around a mouthful of potato. At her wrinkled nose, Kíli swallowed before continuing with a mumbled apology. As she was learning, Dwarves and manners rarely mixed. But, for her sake, he did try. “I can make you a dress. It shouldn't take long at all.” She gave him a measuring look, unsure if he spoke in jest or not. “Do you doubt me, halwimê (my sweet)?” She gave no answer and his tone took on mock offense. “I'll have you know that I am a fine hand with a needle and thread. You'll be the envy of everyone at the festival. Just you wait and see.”

He finished with a nod and she smirked at his certainty. She had no doubt that he could do anything that he put his mind to. He was just stubborn enough to pull off the impossible, if the desire was there. Her presence in the mountain was ample proof of that.

**********

Kíli had risen earlier than usual the next day. He had never been much of a morning person, preferring to sleep late and work late. Elves, he had noticed, did not sleep much at all, though Tauriel still lay with him each night as he drifted off. He had kept his word to Thorin and given Tauriel a room of her own, though every night since the first had found them wrapped around one another. He still used his old room for changing and a bit of privacy, when it was needed, as he had been true to his promise to Tauriel as well. And, while not exactly content to wait for one of the more enjoyable aspects of a relationship, he was gratified to see her happy until they could make their union official.

They had found Fíli already seated with his breakfast when they entered the dining hall. His brother was hiding in a corner and hunched over his breakfast, his posture making it clear that he did not want any company. Kíli, of course, headed in that direction as soon as he and Tauriel had filled their bowls. 

He settled on the bench across the table from his brother with Tauriel at his side. “You have been thinking too much,” he accused the other Dwarf.

Fíli glanced up at him before returning his attention to his bowl, pushing his oatmeal around with his spoon but making no move to eat any of it. 

Kíli leaned towards the Elf at his side and mock whispered to her. “Do you see that pinched look he has; right there between the brows.” He ignored the glare that came at his words and turned to look at Tauriel. “I expect you to tell me if I ever get that way. It's not healthy.”

He could see her trying to fight back a smile, no doubt feeling guilty about teasing the gloomy looking Dwarf. But he had dealt with Fíli's serious side their whole lives and the fastest way to get a response was to make him angry. 

“I doubt that you'll have that problem,” his brother snapped, “one has to think at all to be able to think too hard.”

He smirked and met Fíli's scowl without flinching but it was Tauriel who spoke next.

“Has your stay in Dale been enjoyable?” Kíli knew that she was trying to help, wanting to perhaps diffuse the tension, but she could not have picked a worse subject. “How fare Bard and his children?”

He could see his brother closing off again. He had not spoken to Tauriel of Fíli's problem, and now he regretted that choice. 

Before he could get another word out, Fíli had risen from his seat. The blond Dwarf was quick to beg his leave and make a hasty retreat. Tauriel looked to him in confusion, but he only shook his head. His brother was an idiot, and about to make a terrible mistake.

**********

It was not long after when they made their way down to the old Market Hall. The bazaar for the mountain city had survived the dragon's reign will minimal damage, it being several layers above where the great beast had made his nest, and only a modicum of patchwork had been needed around the entranceway and a few of the support pillars. A crew of men were just starting their work when the two reached the entrance to the hall.

Kíli tried to be subtle about maneuvering them to avoid the construction, one hand holding a lantern and the other at the small of her back. The side look that he received from Tauriel told him that she knew exactly what he was doing and her half smile spoke of her amusement at his antics. He ignored both, more worried about avoiding the chance for any falling debris and a repeat of the accident. 

He gave her his full attention as they passed into the market proper, wanting to see her reaction to the vast open space. The market itself consisted of three levels, all held within one large room. Criss-crossing pathways connected the many shops and streets, and the domed ceiling high above them was dotted with crystals, refracting the meager light the workers had brought with them. When Erebor was full again, and his people were living here once more, the many lanterns placed throughout the hall would be relit and the Market would glow with a light that could chase away the dark from even the furtherest of corners, or so Kíli had been told.

Tauriel was taking in the enormous chamber with wide eyes and Kíli felt a flush of pride for the craftsmanship of his kin. The architecture of Elves and Dwarves were rooted in polar opposites; the twisting turns of things grown and the sharp angles of those hewn. For her to be so impressed spoke highly of the skill of his ancestors.

He had only explored this hall once, but he knew vaguely in which direction and level they should be headed for. They would, no doubt, need to search more than one shop to find enough clothe that had not wasted away with age. There had been no light to fade the fibers, nor moths to eat their fill, but the very air could do enough damage given time, and time enough had elapsed for that to have come to pass.

Hand in hand he led her onto the main street, slowing briefly to get his bearings before heading deeper into the market. They had traveled only a handful of steps before a loud crash resounded from behind them. It was from one second to the next that Kíli went from standing in the open to being squashed between the nearest wall and an Elf.

“Tauriel,” his voice was muffled by the bodice of her dress, “what are you doing?” He could guess as to why she was shielding him with her body, and had he not recognized the sound of a tool box falling from up high, they may gotten tangled together trying to protect each other. He fought down a burst of annoyance that her instinct was to put herself in harms way for his sake, and decided to have a bit of fun with his current predicament. He nuzzled his face where it was pressed between her breasts. “Though I'll be honest, I'm not complaining at the view.”

She took a quick step back, her eyes fast to find the cause of the disturbance."I thought..." her voice trailed away and he felt what little irritation that had risen within him evaporate.

He did not want her to feel foolish on his account, and it was strange to see her so. It was one thing to see her blush from his teasing, and quite another to see it from shame. It was not her fault that her kind were so cold and uncaring, and he had done all that he could think of to encourage her to be more open. The thought came to him that, perhaps, if she were more familiar with living in a mountain, she would be more comfortable.

He took her hand in his once more to guide her back to where they had been standing and gave it a tug as he lowered himself to the polished surface. They lay, heads side-by-side though up-side-down from one another, to look up at the crystals far overhead.

“There are signs, if you know where to look, that can tell you if a room is unstable.” Kíli was channeling one of his childhood tutors, though he could not remember the man's name. If Tauriel was to live buried in rock and soil, she should be able to see at a glance what areas were safe and which were trouble.

He lifted a hand to encompass the entirety of the rock above them. “When it comes to the ceiling, it's all about where the weight is braced.”

He found himself falling into the role of instructor, much like he did with his apprentices and it was several minutes before he noticed that she was not looking at where he was pointing. Instead of following along with his lecture, she had titled her head to better see his face. 

He lowered the hand that he had been gesturing with to watch her watching him.

She turned fully onto her side and pillowed her head on one arm and he rolled towards her to match, though it was strange to look at her from his inverted angle.

“You could have stopped me if I was boring you.” His tone was wry.

She raised one hand to brush back a strand of hair that had fallen into his face and raked her fingers through his unruly mane as she withdrew it. “I do very much enjoy the sound of your voice.” She leaned up and forward to place a small upside-down kiss to the tip of his nose before laying her head down again. “You may continue if you'd like.”

He could feel the tips of his ears burning and he shook his head. “Nah.” The faster they were finished with this task, the sooner he could get her back home again, and maybe find a bit of time together where they were laying in the same direction. He would keep his promise to her for as long as she asked him to, but that did not mean that he had to make it any easier for her than it was for him.

He stood and offered her a hand up. “Enough lessons for one day. Let's go make you a dress.”

**********

Fíli had entered Dale well before sunrise and had joined with his crew just as they had begun for the day. The task he had taken on was laborious, but did not require much attention and he had found his thoughts drawn to other places more often than not. His uncle had not been best pleased when he had heard the details of the upcoming festival. Fíli knew that Thorin held no attachment to the gems in question, but the very idea of bringing the Elf King a shred of happiness had brought a sour look to the King Under the Mountain. In the end, Thorin had agreed, though it had taken more time and trying than Fíli would have liked.

It was just passed midday when he slipped away from prying eyes and made his way to the stables. Sigrid and Tilda had come for their daily visit and he had caught the elder sister's eye before making his exist, sure that she would soon follow. He was not looking forward to what would come next and it was with a heavy heart that he now waited for her.

There was no desire in him to tinker or carve. He sat on the hard floor with his elbows on bent knees and forehead pressed to knuckles, thinking on how best to phrase his reasoning. If he did not end what he and Sigrid had now, he would not be able to later. His feelings for the girl had grown faster than he had expected, though that should not have been a surprise. She held such an open heart. She was kind and intelligent, witty and beautiful. It was impossible not to love her; and therein lie the problem.

He was brought from his musings by the woman in question and he could only stare from his spot on the floor as she entered. He was unused to seeing her in a dress while in their secret space. Her face split into a wide grin and he stood as she crossed the distance to embrace him.

“I missed you last night.” He could hear the smile in her voice, though her face was tucked into his neck. “And I love your gift.”

He had felt guilty for leaving the city without first letting her know. In his place he had left her a note and a small carved rose. It had been a simple thing, a token, and he was glad, now more than ever, that she would have something of him when all of this was said and done. Fíli held her all the tighter, knowing that this could be his last chance to feel her against him.

Something of his silence must have given him away and it was with a worried look that Sigrid drew back. Before she could ask, Fíli pulled her face to his, first to rest their foreheads against one another and, when that was not enough, to kiss her. He kept the touch chaste, but the shaking in his hands belied his desperation. She lay her own over his, perhaps to steady his touch, and he wound their fingers together. Pulling away, he brought first one of her hands and then the other up to lay a kiss on the back of each.

His silence had spoken for him and there were tears in her eyes when he met them. He was certain that she knew what was to come. In that moment, he hated himself. He hated the mountain, the crown, his uncle, his people, everyone and everything that stood between himself and the woman that he loved. 

And it was in that moment that he realized that he did love her. Truly and completely and without end. He had waited too long to walk away, and now, even if he left, he would be leaving his heart behind.

Fíli closed his eyes and thought of his brother and Tauriel, of how easy his brother had made it look to walk away from responsibility. He thought of the long and empty life that awaited him without Sigrid, of how she would be so close and still so unattainable. Would it be worse to see her in passing with a husband not himself, or to watch as she left the city for good, leaving for wherever her imagined husband would take her?

The thought shifted something inside of Fíli and he could imagine what his uncle had felt when faced with losing the treasure that he had waited so long to attain. It was a deep and covetous greed, a desperate need to keep what was his, to brand her in a way that would leave no doubt as to who she belonged to.

The fog that had settled over him, cleared somewhat as he focused again on Sigrid. She had read his actions as the goodbye that he had meant them to be, and though there was a sheen to her eyes, she was not crying. It was with a pained smile and a nod of her head that she accepted what he had not said and Fíli felt a rush of pride at the nobility in her. For all that she had been born a bargeman's daughter she would make a fine queen.

Selfishness was a trait that he had been forced to grow out of at a very young age, but he could feel the yearning desire welling up within him. Knowing that he would curse himself for it later, Fíli let go. He pulled his hands from her grip and she did not resist, clearly believing their encounter to be over.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Fíli used his now free hands to cradle her face and pull her down for a desperate kiss. Where the last had been chaste, this was full of promise. He was done with holding back, he was tired of always putting duty first. He wanted, he craved, and he would take everything that she would give to him.

Her sound of surprise was swallowed whole and replaced with a moan of pleasure. When her clever fingers found their way into his hair, tugging lightly at his braids, it was her turn to drink in the sounds that he made. They found their way to the floor soon enough and she had his coat halfway down his arms before he had realized what she was doing.

He smiled into their kiss at her enthusiasm and let her have the lead. Her hands were hasty as they pushed at his clothing and it was not long until he was down to only his trousers. He had not wanted their first encounter to be on a dusty stable floor, but there would be no waiting for the cover of night.

She was still fully dressed and he stopped her wandering hands to help rectify that.

At her curious look he reassured her, “All in good time.”

When he pushed her own coat away he was delighted to see a bit of the shy girl that he had first met reemerge. Sigrid's face blushed a deep shade of red and she looked away, though there was a smile on her face. He ran the back of a finger along her neck and was pleased when she could not restrain a giggle. If he could do nothing else right, he would at the very least make sure that she enjoyed every moment of their time together.

He brought their mouths back together, keeping her preoccupied while he removed her vest and undershirt. When they were skin to bare skin he traced lightly over the edges of both breasts, letting her grow used to the feel of someone else's touch on the intimate flesh. She pressed against him more firmly, sliding her grip from his powerful shoulders to the muscles of his back.

When he broke their kiss it was to see the hazy, heavy-lidded gaze that he had caught a glimpse of all of those weeks ago. It filled him with a hunger that was difficult for him to tamp down on, but he knew that this night would require him to keep control. He would not rush, and he would not hurt her. There would be plenty of time for hard and rough later.

She watched his hands as they played across her chest, weighing each breast, before moving to caress the soft skin. Her breath hitched when he pinched at one nipple and he repeated the action with it's mate. He could live on nothing but that sound for the rest of his life, he was sure of it. He caught her eye and held it as he lowered his mouth to take his first taste of her flesh. Her pretty mouth was parted in a manner he found more than a bit alluring and the sight of her so wanton was like an aphrodisiac. He was desperate for a true taste of her and wondered if she would be too embarrassed to let him try.

He sat up to lay a hand on her shoulder and guided her to lie back. “Close your eyes,” he encouraged.

She did so without hesitation and he was again overcome by her trust in him. She truly was a gift from Mahal himself.

He moved her hands to cover her breasts, encouraging her to explore her own pleasure as he began to make his way down her torso, one whiskered kiss at a time. She shivered when the beads of his mustache dragged along her skin and he chuckled. He used one hand to pull at her skirt as he made his way down and when his lips reached the waistband, he moved to kneel between her legs.

She opened her eyes as he pulled away her underthings and she raised her head to look at him as he settled himself on his belly. The look he sent her was a challenge, silently daring her to protest as he pulled her skirt over his head with slow motions. He waited a heartbeat, long enough for her to voice any objections, and he felt her body shift as she rested her head back onto the ground.

His eyes remained closed and he focused on his other senses. Her scent was concentrated, trapped as it was by the cloth. He rested his weight on one elbow and ran the other hand over the skin of her thighs and abdomen. His breathing grew shallow as he thought to taste her and he lowered his head to run his tongue along the seam of her cleft to test her reaction. He could hear her shaky breathing and smiled.

He shifted the arm that he leaned on to wrap under her thigh and he used the other hand to pull her open just the slightest bit. His tongue repeated it's course, dipping into her along it's way and circling the nub at the top. Her reaction to that was a bit more severe.

Sigrid let out a strangled cry and one of her hands groped at his head through the fabric of her skirt. She was simultaneously trying to crawl away from his mouth and push further into him at the same time. He freed the arm not holding his weight and maneuvered it around the fabric that covered him to reach for her hand. She wound their fingers together and held on for dear life.

With the grip on his hand to help ground her, Fíli buried himself in Sigrid with abandon. He set up a gentle rhythm of slow licking and thrusting and suckling. The sounds of her breathy sighs contrasted with her occasional sharp intake of air. His own hungry grunts joined the chorus and he tried shifting against the hard ground to relieve some of his own pressure.

When his rhythm faltered and Sigrid gave a mewling whimper, Fíli ceased his rutting motion. He could wait. His focus right now was the writhing girl holding desperately on to him. His other hand was still wrapped around her thigh and he stretched it to press down on her pelvis as she began to twitch against him. Her movements became more pronounced and he knew that she was nearing her limits.

She tightened her grip on his hand to an impressive degree and the question shot through his mind as to whether or not she was still holding onto her own breast with the other. The picture that created in his mind combined with the strangled way she called his name as she found her release nearly had Fíli undone.

He slowed his movements, letting her ride out the aftershocks of her pleasure until he was doing no more than nuzzling at the skin of her thighs. He felt her release his hand before she pulled the skirt from over his head. Her smile was dazzling in it's wickedness. She must have been tossing her head with the way that her hair had come loose and he could see the imprint of her fingers on the breast that she had been holding, bringing with it an answer to his question.

She held both arms out to him and he crawled up her body to pull her into his embrace. Her flesh was as warm as her flush showed it to be and he pressed her to him, pulling her from the cold ground and half onto his torso. She shifted one leg to curl around him and it brushed against his already straining erection. He could not stop the groan that came from her touch, innocent though it may have been intended, and she seemed to realize then that he had not yet been sated.

She raised her head to speak and he gave her a light kiss to stop her words. “Soon,” he promised, “Believe me, right now there is nothing that I want more. Except to stay here with you in my arms for just another moment.” He gave her a wink and she smiled as she lay her head back on to his chest. His hand drew lazy circles on the skin of her back and he pressed a kiss to her hair.

Perhaps it was unfair of him, but he planned to leave a mark on her so deep that she would never crave the touch of another man. He would carve his name into the very core of her being one climax at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Dark!Fíli is just a bit sexy... I think that I read somewhere that greed is sort of racial trait for Dwarves and I definitely ran with that here. This part kind of wrote itself. I had meant to have them actually break up, but apparently Fíli had other ideas. His were better, so we went with that.
> 
> This story is just a fancy way to share all of my head-cannon's. I've shared this on Tumblr, but it's coming into play in this chapter. I think that with so few female Dwarves it is unrealistic to have only women doing the cooking, the cleaning, the sewing, etc, so most male Dwarves are well versed in these tasks. I like to think that the clothes Fíli and Kíli are wearing in AUJ were made by themselves.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the missed chapter last time. I have no good excuses. Events are starting to culminate and I find it terrifying to write. I am the queen of procrastination.

Fíli found that his day-to-day life had become much more difficult in the most selfish of ways. He could not be near to Sigrid as much as he craved, and when they were together, where other eyes could see them, he could not hold her as he wished to. When they were alone and he could touch her as he pleased, it was always with the knowledge that their time was finite. But the hardest part of holding her close was having to let her go each night.

When it came to their time in the stables, Fíli was always her teacher first and her lover second. And so, on the night that Sigrid was late to practice it was their time after the swordwork that was cut short and not her drills. Looking back later, Fíli would be grateful for that.

He had bid her goodnight with a lingering kiss at the door before making ready for his own departure. His effects lay in a pile in the middle of the stable and it was only a moment to return to them. Crouched as he was to collect his belongings, Fíli felt the shift in the air that signified a presence behind him. His hand reached past his cloak, where it lay, to grab hold of one of his swords. Quick as a spark, he had the blade drawn and arcing through the air as he pivoted to meet his attacker. The sound of steel meeting steel rang through the stables as Fíli looked up and into the wide eyes of Bain.

The boy had been clumsy on his draw, and his sword was still half sheathed, but that he had been quick enough to block at all spoke highly of his training at the garrison. They stayed locked as they were for a long pause before Fíli pulled back and resheathed his sword.

“You should know better than to sneak up on an armed man,” Fíli could not keep the edge from his voice. In part because the boy could have been hurt, but more so because he should have heard Bain's approach to begin with. It was true that love addled the mind. He had been thinking of Sigrid just now and his thoughts had begun to drift towards her more and more during the day. He had several sore digits that could attest to that.

Bain studied him a moment more before relaxing enough to unhand his sword and nod his head in agreement. “My apologies, I didn't think.”

The lad had come a long way from when Fíli had first met him in Lake-town. Where before had been a rash and impetuous youth, yearning to prove himself, now stood a young man, still learning the ways of the world; but willing to learn. That desire would make all of the difference in the years to come.

“What brings you out here in the dead of the night?” Fíli turned away to retrieve his cloak and second sword from where they still lay, and hoped beyond hope that Bain had not seen his sister's departure. Silence was his only answer and he stood to face the young man again.

“I need to know what you're intentions are towards my sister.” The words were said formally, and with only a hint of a waver to his voice.

There had been a part of Fíli that had wanted to shout his feelings for Sigrid from the highest point in Esgaroth. Here was the perfect excuse to be done with all of the secrets and sneaking about, but it was the thought of telling Thorin and the inevitable fallout that would follow that had him hesitating now. By bringing their relationship into the light, he ran the risk of loosing it.

Even knowing all of that could not make Fíli speak anything less than the truth. Sigrid deserved that much, and more. “I love her. And someday, when it is possible, I would have her as my wife.”

As Bain watched him and measured his words, Fíli could see Bard looking out through the boys eyes and he wondered just how far the knowledge of his and Sigrid's meetings had spread.

Finally Bain responded with a curious tilt to the head and his arms crossed over his chest. “And what's stopping you? You're a prince now, you can do whatever you please.”

There was no easy way to explain the intricacies of Dwarven politics to one not born to it, especially one so inexperienced in the world. “There are expectations of me and my place in the mountain. Marriage to your sister would change everything, and there are those who would not be happy with those changes.” His tone took on a forcefulness that he hoped would impress upon the youth the importance of what he said. “You must give me your word that you will not speak of this to anyone. For your sister's sake, as well as mine.” He poured as much conviction into his voice as he could muster. “Your sister means more to me than life and you must trust me to handle this situation. For now, it must stay secret.”

Something of the weight of his words must have been absorbed and it was relief that flowed through him when Bain nodded his assent. With the subject resolved as best as it could be, at least for the time being, the two were left in an awkward silence.

Curiosity had Fíli peering up at Bain again as he bent to collect his belongings. “Just how did you find out about us?”

The boy shrugged and his smirk was one of amusement. “Who do you think has been keeping the night guard away? I've had to take every evening shift for the past month to keep you two from being found out.”

Fíli laughed out loud at that and, with swords and cloak tucked under one arm, he gave the boy a hearty slap on the back. He should have known that it was more than luck that had kept them from being discovered so far. “But why? Why would you do that?”

Bain sobered a bit before answering. “It's not common for the women here to learn how to fight, but it's not unheard of. I like the idea of my sister being safe, even when only in her own company.” The teasing was back in his tone when he continued. “Da would too, but I'll not be the one that tells him.”

The reminder of Bard was like stepping into a mountain stream; cold and sharp. “He- He doesn't know, does he? About Sigrid and me?” It was absurd for him to be afraid of the bowman. They were allies, and Fíli had been training with a sword for longer than the man had been alive. And yet, there was a fundamental instinct in him to be weary of the father of the woman that he loved.

Now it was Bain's turn to laugh as he turned for the door with Fíli following beside him. “Nah, not yet. Though you'd do well to be mindful of yourselves when you're both in front of him. Anyone with eyes can see the way you look at each other.” Before they turned to go their separate ways Bain offered one more parting shot. “Tilda noticed it first, ya know; the change in you two. She's assured me that I make a fine brother, but is looking forward to have you in the family. Among other things, she'll no longer being the smallest.”

Fíli thought it best not to reply.

**********

The festival was only a day away and Kíli had begun to see needles and beads chasing him in his dreams. He had spent every moment that he could scrape together crafting the dress that Tauriel would wear. And when he had realized that his plans had gotten a bit too grandiose, Ori had been more than happy to help him with the detailing.

Kíli cast a look to the Elf beside him as they sat down for supper. He had been disheartened when they had not been able to find the shades of fabric that he had been hoping for; the dark blues or deep greens that would contrast best with her fair skin. By the end of their search through the old Market Hall they had only been able to scavenge an assortment of grays to work with. He had feared that the dull colors would not do her beauty justice. A smile touched his lips now at the thought. His Love could make even the most dreary of garb shine; and to help, he had stitched in as many stars as time would allow. With that thought in mind Kíli tucked into his stew with a relish. He would still have time to add more brocade if they retired early for the night.

His attention was caught again by Tauriel as she began to cough on her drink. She waved away his concern as she struggled to catch her breath. There were few others still in the Hall, but all eyes had turned to watch them. He scanned the faces with a quick glance, hoping to catch sight of a familiar gaze, but found no comfort to be had.

The sound of Tauriel clearing her throat was a reassuring one.

“I think the wine has gone off.” Her voice was only the slightest bit strained when she spoke.

Kíli lifted her cup for a sniff before reeling back from the rank stench. The drink was beyond off, it was foul; and familiar. He tipped the liquid out onto the stones of the floor and stood, ushering Tauriel to do the same. “We have to go. Now, quickly.”

He could already see the flush on her cheeks and, though she did rise, she began to sway where she stood.

Her eyes were drawn to the puddle on the floor before meeting his again. “Kíli?” She laid a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. “What was that?”

Time was of the essence and he started them towards the Healing Hall before he answered. “Moonseed.” Her steps were growing clumsy and he worried that he might have to carry her. He was strong enough, of that he had little doubt, but their differences in height would make it a challenge.

“Moonseed.” She drew the word out, leaning on each syllable, before finishing with a drunken laugh. “I like the moon.” They stumbled only a step further before Tauriel pushed him into an alcove out of sight. He found himself once more trapped between a cold wall and a warm body. Unlike in the market, this time there would be no teasing. Her lips pressed to his in a demanding kiss, “I like you too,” before her hands began to roam across his torso; seeking out, and finding, the openings between the layers of his clothing.

He broke away long enough to try to reason with her. “Tauriel, you've been poisoned.” Her hands found his flesh and he scrabbled to pull them out again as her touch trailed lower across his body. “We really don't have time for this.”

“It doesn't feel like poison.” She laid a kiss on his neck before nibbling at the flesh there. “It feels like heat.” Her lips moved to his ear and he shivered as she took the lobe between her teeth.

On any other night Kíli would have been thrilled at the prospect of Tauriel being so forward. He still thought the idea of waiting for sex to be a silly one, but the thought of her being so far out of her mind as to forget something that had been so important to her scared him more than he could say.

He had tasted the wine on her lips when Tauriel had kissed him and could feel his head begin to reel with the effects of it. He knew little of moonseed, but what he did know was not good. The poison was fast acting, and very lethal in the right amounts. He could only hope that Tauriel's Elvish nature would help to counteract the large dose that she had ingested.

One thing was for certain; they could not stay as they were. Her hands untangled themselves from his person and he caught them in his own as she reached for the fastening of his trousers.

“We have to get the antidote.” His tongue was growing sluggish in his mouth. At least if he were to die tonight, he would do so in the arms of the woman that he loved.

“I need no healer. I need you to touch me.” Her overbright eyes found his and he watched as she focused on him for the first time since their escape from the Dining Hall. There was a hint of clarity to her eyes when he made no reply. “Kíli?”

“It may not be poison for you,” he could feel his stomach begin to churn and pushed his way past her and back into the hallway, “but it is for me.” Falling to his hands and knees, his stomach emptied itself of what little he had eaten for dinner all over the flagstones. The last glimpse he had before his eyes rolled back into his head, was Tauriel half stumbling to reach him.

**********

From his place in the doorway Thorin looked to where his nephew lie in the Healing Hall. He had hoped to never have to see the boy in a sick bed again; but it had been a foolish wish at best. He watched as Kíli tried to rise, only to be forced back down by the She-Elf. From the way the two were gesturing it was not difficult to figure out what was being said, despite their attempts at hushed voices. She had positioned herself as guardian, in such a way so as to keep one eye on her ailing Dwarf and one on the only entrance to the Hall. Thorin doubted his nephew would be leaving that bed as swiftly as the young man may have been wanting.

He could no longer deny the Elf's feelings for his nephew. Though his options may have greatly improved if she had been proved false, he had seen the truth of her heart during her time among them. Despite the trouble he knew that their union would bring, it did warm his heart to see Kíli so happy and well loved. It was not every Dwarf who found his One, and even rarer so to have that affection returned.

With that in mind he focused again on the voice of the healer beside him.

“'Tis a lucky thing that Tauriel was the target and not the lad. I've never seen the like. She's not had any ill effects that I can tell. He would not have been so fortunate.” Óin gave a great harrumph. “As is, he'll have a sour stomach for most of the morn, but should be right as rain by nightfall.”

Thorin dipped his head in acknowledgement but made no reply. Luck indeed. He was not unaware that luck had a way of running out at the most inopportune of times. His gaze slipped past the elder Dwarf to where Balin and Dwalin stood waiting, keeping a respectful distance at the end of the hall.

Perhaps he should have let his nephew and the Elf leave the mountain when Kíli had first asked it. Whatever dangers would have been upon them in the wild would, at the very least, not hold the stench of deception. He wondered if they might not have been safer chasing Orc packs in the mountains than taking supper in his kingdom.

Without a word, Thorin left the healer to his work and made his way to where the brothers awaited him.

His voice was low and harsh when he spoke. “Find me the one that would dare to make a strike against me and mine.” This had been no accident and he could no longer afford to tun a blind eye.

Both gave a nod, though only Balin answered. “It will be done.”

With his temper still peaked, Thorin did not trust himself to speak more and he left for the confines of his office. The tainted gold, his overbearing cousin, and now these attempts upon his kin; too many troubles were piling upon the King Under the Mountain and he was beginning to worry that he would not survive the burdens. He felt as if he had been caught in a mine collapse. Too much shifting could cause the walls to cave in around him and all that was left was to wait for a rescue to dig him out.

**********

By the time that Thorin had reached the sanctuary of his office his temper had cooled immensely. That was, of course, until he saw who had been waiting there for his return.

Dáin rose from his seat by the fire and crossed the room to lay a hand upon Thorin's shoulder. “I heard wha' happened to the lad. How does he fare?”

Thorin considered his answer for a moment. There had been a time when Dáin would have been among those that he counted as his most trusted circle. Now though, there were too many unknown factors, too many questions left unanswered. He stepped out from under his cousin's hand to cross the room. “He will live.”

It was a relief when Dáin chose to keep his distance. Thorin's ire at his nephews condition had not abated completely, nor did it look as if it would anytime soon. Not until the one at fault had been found.

“Tha's good to hear.” Dain lowered himself back into the chair that he had been resting in. “If there's anything tha' I can do ta help.” He let the offer speak for itself and Thorin nodded his understanding.

“Someone has made a grave mistake.” He turned to watch his cousin. “Rest assured, when I find the one responsible, there will be a reckoning.”

“Aye, as there should be.” The ginger Dwarf had the audacity to take on a smug air. “Didn' I warn you no' to bring outsiders here?”

Thorin raised a brow at the suggestion. “Are you implying it was not a Dwarf who has made these attempts.”

Dáin rose once more, and for the first time that evening, took on an contentious tone. “Are you implying tha' it was?”

Though uncommon, Dwarves had been known to find work in the shadows. Assassins, thieves, those that made their living on deceit. Most would consider it not honorable, yet even he had one among his Company. “And what would a Man care if an Elf were to reside in this mountain?”

The look he earned was hard and unyielding. “You've no' been yourself since the battle ended and I think it might be wise for you to think on tha'.” Dáin paused a moment before his demeanor shifted and his words turned placating, and the slightest bit taunting. “Perhaps the mantel of a kingdom is too much for you to bear so soon. Perhaps you need more time to rest.”

“I see.” The settling embers of Thorin's anger were stoked high once more. “And of course you would be more than willing to take that burden from me.”

The great Dwarf seemed to puff up with indignation. “I dinna like your tone there, cousin. Or what you might be suggesting.”

Thorin's voice had cooled to an icy frost. “And I don't like harboring those that would harm my kin. But it would seem that we are both to be dissatisfied.”

Dáin crossed to the door, shaking his head all the way. “You'd do well to cure yourself of what ails you, sooner rather than later.” At the exit he turned. “King or no', if you continue the way you are it'll be more than a nephew you'll lose.”

The threat hung in the air long after the other Dwarf had left the room.

Thorin sat, head in his hands, and the walls closing in around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm still terrified of writing this story, but I'm getting back into the swing of it. IT WILL NOT BE ABANDONED! I promise, and hopefully there will be no more missed updates.
> 
> A/N: Moonseed is real and lethal. I've read that Elves can be poisoned, but I like the idea of showing the differences between Elvish and Dwarvish biology. Moonseed, while lethal to humans, is harmless to birds. So why I took it a step farther, and while it's poisonous to Dwarves it's a serious aphrodisiac for Elves. I couldn't think of a way to put that into conversation without it being forced but now I have a whole headcannon surrounding the stuff. 
> 
> Maelpuig, as the Elves call it, is used by couples during the Spring Festival and is basically like taking Ecstasy. It makes them very horny and want to be touched. So when Tauriel says it feels like heat it's more appropriate to say that she's feeling 'in heat'. But, as she's never heard the Westron name for it or had an occasion to taste it, she wouldn't be able to make that connection and no one in the mountain would know enough about Elvish customs/biology to know either.
> 
> I thought about going for a direct translation into Sindarin, but followed the Kingsfoil to Athelas example so the Sindarin name translates into what it does/is. Maelpuig means 'lust berries'. Yes I pulled the “I came into contact with a sex plant” cliché, so sue me.


	11. Chapter 11

The caravan from Edoras arrived just as the sun was cresting the horizon and the makeshift banners were being hung from the city gates. The wagons had been weighed down with a variety of goods, all of which would be sorely needed to see the reestablished city of Dale through the winter. Tables and stalls had been set up along the edge of the town square and the area had been dotted with fire pits to drive away the worst of the air's frost.

Fíli had no worry about the chill. When the celebration started and the drink began to flow, there would be warm bodies enough to heat the square to a springtime temperature. His eyes traveled over the goods being set out, the bolts of clothe and tools for trade work. He watched as dried meats were laid out and caught the scent of spices riding the wind, already dulling the knife's edge of the cold.

The citizens of Dale had done their best to prepare for a gathering. The open area in the heart of the city had been cleared as best as it could be and a portion had been made ready for dancing and music. Empty tables sat waiting for the feast that evening and there was a silence that teetered on the edge of excitement.

Men were not the only ones who were in great need of a celebration and Fíli hoped that a good many of his kind would make their way from the mountain. Even those of the Iron Hills could not hide their enthusiasm; or least, those of them that had been sent with him to repair the old city. There had been a distance at first, between himself and the unfamiliar Dwarves, but over their time together, and through the bond that comes from hard work and shared blood and sweat, there had grown a respect between Fíli and the other Dwarves. He would not call them friends, not yet, but there was no longer a hovering animosity between them, and that was something to be grateful for.

He was broken from his reverie by the gruff voice of one such Dwarf. "Shall we call it a day, then, Boss?"

Fíli looked to where the other man approached and then cast his eyes to the noon day sun. He and his crew had finished the worst of the structural repairs weeks ago and had been working on the more finite task of repairing or replacing broken facades or intricate architecture since then. But there would be none of that for as long as the festival was on going.

"Tell the men to pack up," Fíli turned to face the Dwarf as he addressed him. "We can do no more until the square is cleared out," he gave a friendly knock to the other man's back with a chuckle, "and our crew sobers up enough to do more good than harm."

Of all of the Dwarves from the Iron Hills, Grunîm, his foreman, was the one that he had grown the closest to.

"Tell me," Fíli's tone was just the slightest bit hesitant, "do you think that many of your kin will come tonight?"

"I honestly don' know." Grunîm turned his gaze to the bustle around them. "Bu' it would do a world of good if they did." He started back the way that he had come and Fíli fell into step beside him. "We've had trade with Men before, but this is something new; wha's beginning here."

Fíli cast a look over his shoulder at the square. He could feel it as well, the start of something grand. And with it came a feeling that was sorely needed in this corner of the world: hope.

**********

As a child, Tauriel's tutors had tried everything in their power to break her of her habit of pacing. It was at best unladylike, and at worst a too obvious sign of her distress. She spared half a moment to lament at their failure and the insufficient space of her quarters. The room, which had seemed quite cozy at first appearance, now lacked the length required. She shook her hands at her sides, in part to use what little energy the motion would burn, but also to try to dispel the missing feeling of her daggers. They had been a part of her for so long, and she ached to have the comfort of them in hand again.

Kíli sat watching her from the bed; leaned back on his hands and far too relaxed. "You're making something out of nothing, I promise you."

She paused in her steps to shoot him an incredulous stare and the Dwarf had the audacity to chuckle.

"You think this is funny?" Her voice was soft, but carried with it an edge. "You should still be in the Healing Hall. Though for all of my trying you're thick skull is apparently impenetrable to reason. There is an assassin living amongst us, allies are few and far between, and you want to go to a party."

Sitting up from his reclined position, Kíli gave her a nod. "To put it simply; yes."

With a noise of disgust Tauriel threw her hands into the air and began her pacing once more. "If I had more time, if anyone in this blasted kingdom would talk to me, I might be able to find the culprit."

Kíli grabbed for her hand as she passed him, and with a strength that she should no longer find surprising, pulled her down to sit beside him. "And you would succeed, my love, I know it." She turned to look at him and he ran his free hand along one of her betrothal braids. "But there is no Guard for you to captain here. Finding the miscreant is not your responsibility."

There was a fear in Tauriel that she had been fighting since that awful day on Ravenhill, that her actions would lead to Kíli's suffering; or worse, his death. She had done her best to ignore the feeling but it fed from her guilt now. Fear was a weakness, an infirmity that could be twisted against the bearer, and she had been raised better than to give into it.

And yet, she was no longer an Elf of the Wood, and the strict rules to which she had been raised to believe in no longer applied.

"You were hurt; because of me." There was no sharpness to her voice this time and she rested her forehead on Kíli's shoulder to avoid catching his eye. This openness that existed between them was still so new to her. And though she adored the intimacy that came with such closeness, there remained centuries of self-restraint for her to overcome.

He spoke to her in Khuzdul while his fingers combed through her hair. Words that she had no hope of understanding, but the soothing tone with which he delivered them brought peace to Tauriel. The sounds were not flowing and melodic like the language of her birth, but they had taken on a singular meaning for her; one of safety. He did not often speak to her in the Dwarven language when others were nearby, and she had come to associate the words with their time alone.

Kíli shifted her away from him and she met his eyes without prompting. "You know that what happened was not your fault. Why do you still try to take the blame?"

She ran the fingers of one hand through his ever-disheveled locks. He had become so dear to her in so short a period of time. "I should have protected you."

His protest, when it came, had been expected. The intensity with which he delivered it, though, was a surprise.

"It is not your responsibility to protect me." He caught her hand from where rested in his hair and brought their joined hands to his lap. "If anything, I should be the one protecting you."

The petulant look on his face combined with his complaint raised a bubble of laughter from Tauriel. "Well that's just silly."

She could see her mistake almost at once. Kíli stood from the bed and turned to face her, his shoulders drawn back in wounded pride. "Why? Am I too weak? Too young? Too short of beard?" He threw his arms out to indicate all of himself. "Do you think I'm unable to keep you safe?" She could see the moment that the previous night came to his mind as he deflated into himself. "Maybe you're right."

It wounded her to see him so despaired.

Taking his hands into her own, it was Tauriel's turn to pull him to sit beside her. "Unless you had planned to taste everything I ate or drank, then there was nothing you could have done last night. And besides, I would never have allowed such a thing." He made as if to argue and she spoke over his words, leaving no room for debate. "I have been a warrior for centuries, Meleth Nín, you cannot expect me to play damsel in the mountain simply because you wish to prove yourself." She tried a teasing note, hoping to lighten the mood. "Besides, of the two of us, who has been the one to need rescuing?"

Tauriel watched as Kíli's face flushed red and she could not be certain if it was from embarrassment, shame, or anger.

She rushed her next words to try to fix whatever damage may have been done by her carelessness. "Please, I spoke only in jest." She thought to take his hand again, but instead offered her own in a truce. "Can we agree to protect each other and leave it at that?"

The silence stretched out between them and Tauriel knew that, regardless of his answer, the matter would be far from settled. Finally, Kíli nodded his consent and laid his hand in hers.

She had a moment to wonder at the nature of Dwarven women. Were they such delicate creatures that they must be shielded from the world? And if so, then what about her had first caught his eye, as she was nothing like a Dwarf in looks. For the first time since their meeting Tauriel thought on how she must appear to his people; overly tall and too thin. Her face was as bare any Elf's and she lacked even the peach-fuzz all Dwarves were born with.

His words from earlier came back to her and her eyes were drawn to the scruff on his face. "Why do you keep your beard shorn as you do?"

Kíli ran the fingers of his free hand over the stubble on his cheeks and she was glad to have put the other topic behind them. "It's generally considered a sign of mourning. Thorin started keeping his short after they were forced to leave Erebor all those years ago." His shoulders raised and fell in a lazy shrug. "Fíli and I have always kept ours trimmed as well. Though, not usually this short." At this he chuckled and she could see a memory flitting across his mind. "I lost a bet before we set out on our quest," his hand once again rubbed at his almost-beard, "I had to shave my face for the duration of our journey. Lucky for me most of the spring chill had been gone from the air by then." He let out a heartfelt laugh and Tauriel was glad to see his mood so recovered. "You should have seen the fit my mother threw when she'd seen what I had done."

Tauriel pulled her hand from his to lay both along his checks, letting the tiny hairs tickle her skin. "Will you let it grow now?" She could not imagine Kíli with a full beard, the image was simply too foreign to her. She let her hands slide back to cup his jaw and drew him to her for a kiss. "I will miss being able to see all of your face. A beard would hide you from me."

He was grinning when they parted and the sight brought a smile to her own face.

"I hadn't really thought much on it with everything that's been going on." He turned his face to nuzzle one of her palms before laying a kiss there. "I've been shaving nearly everyday for months now. I guess it's became a bit of a habit."

Tauriel drew back and closed one eye, raising her hand to block the view of the lower half of his face. "I imagine you'll look much older with a full beard." Lowering her hand again, she met his gaze with a smile. "Will you twist and braid it as the others do?" The image of Kíli wearing one of the outrageous styles of his companions brought a soft laugh from the Elf; long looping braids or peaks rising from his head.

The look he gave her had Tauriel wondering if she had once again said the wrong thing. But his words, when he spoke, were not angry. His voice was one of deep thought. "I don't know." She was grateful when his eyes cleared and he seemed to come back to the moment. "I guess I'll have to decide soon, though."

She made a noise of assent, though in truth she was not certain what he had been thinking.

He turned the conversation back to thoughts of the upcoming festival and she agreed without complaint. As much as it would soothe her nerves to see him resting for a bit longer, Tauriel had already accepted that defeat.

She had never been to a celebration outside of the Greenwood and had little idea of what to expect. King Thranduil would be in attendance, that much she knew, and there was a dread inside of her at the thought of seeing him again. The last words that he had spoken to her had been with his sword held to her neck.

Her one source of comfort for that upcoming meeting was the chance for her to see Legolas again. He was her dearest friend and there was an ache within her at the thought of having abandoned him.

"Are you ready?"

Kíli's question cut off her melancholy thoughts and she nodded with a smile that was only partially forced. When he retrieved the dress that she was to wear and held it out for her to see, her smile shifted to a soft but sincere twist of the lips.

"It is beautiful."

Tauriel ran her hand along the length of the skirt where it flowed over his arm. The lace pattern looked to her eye as if the material would be rough, but it passed through her fingers like water. She had never imagined that such a creation would be possible from the mis-mashed scraps that they had retrieved from the old market.

The smile on Kíli's face was wide and unrestrained. He lifted the garment, settling the fabric into her arms. "Try it on."

There was no changing screen in the room, but with a promise not to peak and his back to turned to her, Tauriel was quick to change from one dress to the other. Kíli was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet before she had finished and there was no hope of her lacing up the back without his help.

"You can turn around now." She fought a blush at the timidness in her voice. Few had been the occasions that she had needed to wear a gown that had required help to dress. Her armor had been made with speed and efficiency in mind and she had always favored the ease of trousers to the flare of a skirt.

She made the mistake of catching Kíli's eye as he turned back around and the hunger in his stare pulled low in her belly. He gave no answer when she asked for his help with the ties, but moved towards her with slow and measured steps. His hand skimmed the flesh of her back as he moved her hair out of the way and Tauriel was grateful that he could not see her face.

She did not regret what sacrifices had been made to save Kíli's life, but after having lost the only home that she had ever known, she was desperate now to hold onto what parts of her past that she could. A twelve month courtship was not so long for an Elf, but she had never felt time move so slowly before. In part it was a blessing as each moment with her love was it's own and to be cherished, but there was also a curse in the waiting. It was in moments like these, when she could feel the pull of their bond, that she began to doubt the strength of her own resolve.

By the time that Kíli had finished lacing her into the dress and come back around to face her, Tauriel had managed to regain her composure. She could still feel a slight heat in her cheeks, but she did her best to ignore the feeling and instead focused on the gown that hung from her shoulders. The over skirt split in the front, just under the bust, and the lace parted to show smooth silk beneath it. She swayed from side to side, letting the fabric float around her. The hem hovered just above the floor and would hide her lack of appropriate footwear from view. She had not given a second thought to wearing her boots with the everyday dresses that she wore, but she hesitated at the thought of doing disservice to the dress that Kíli had made.

He followed her gaze were it lingered on her toes before lifting her chin to meet his eyes. "Trust me, nobody will be looking at your feet."

She smiled and nodded. Whatever lay in store for them that evening, Tauriel was determined to face it head on. And with Kíli by her side, she was certain that they could face anything that would come, so long as they were together.

They would go to the festival, and they would dance and laugh and continue the life that they had started together and nothing could possibly go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the dress is based on the Breathe gown from Ever After, I felt the need to throw in a quote from the movie. Link to Tauriel in her dress is here: http://isileil.tumblr.com/post/118744218477/a-preview-of-tauriel-in-her-festival-dress-from-my


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been cleaning things up a bit: minor overhaul. The prologue is gone and the second half of the last chapter has been completely rewritten. I made a mistake the last time that I updated. I tried to force myself to write when I shouldn't have and then posted the chapter anyway to try to make my own self-enforced deadline. I'll not be making that mistake again. 
> 
> For those that don't want to reread, here's the long and short of it:
> 
> The last segment is gone.The Kíliel scene has been expanded and refined. They're a bit more in character, I think, and I added in the dress reveal. (Someone was kind enough to point out that I had missed that opportunity, and I kinda feel silly after the build up that I gave it.)
> 
> So that's pretty much it. Oh, and there's more shameless flirting, because I like that sort of thing.

By midday all of Dale had been to see the vendor's stalls and handfuls of Men had been making their way from the mountain since long before the sun had first crested the horizon. The only Dwarves to be seen yet were those that had already been in the city and no sign had come of the Elves at all. Fíli did not doubt that Thorin and the others would join them, it was only a matter of when. The Elves, however, he was less certain of.

The Dwarven prince had passed the time by perusing the goods on display. He had been surprised and pleased to find that Bifur and Bofur had made their way down early enough to commandeer a booth of their own for selling wares, though he had seen more toys given away then sold. Bard had given each man, woman, and child a share of the gold Dale had received to spend as they saw fit and Fíli was glad to see some good coming from the former dragon's hoard.

As the day had worn on, the fair-haired Dwarf had settled himself at an empty table in the town square to wait for the rest of his countrymen to arrive. He nibbled on the foods he had bought and watched the people as they moved across his path, unused to being so idle but enjoying the moment for what it was. He was glad to see the the people of Dale healing. Families, whole and fragmented, coming together with their neighbors to put aside the hardships of their past and look onwards towards the future.

A familiar voice reached his ears and Fíli turned in time to catch Sigrid watching him from across the plaza. She was a vision of scarlet and sunshine in the dress that she wore and he did not bother to hide his smile as she blushed at being caught looking. They had agreed to stay apart for the evening, not wanting to risk over-familiarity with the watchful eyes of so many around them. He had not thought that it would be so much of a challenge when they had made the arrangement, but that had also been before Sigrid had been tasked with entertaining the son of one of the merchants.

The lad had been friendly enough when he and Fíli had been introduced, Brennan or Braden or some-other such name, but the cordial feelings from that morning were swiftly turning sour. He watched as the young man called Sigrid's attention away again. She had spent the day so far showing the boy around the newly rebuilt city, much as she had with Fíli when he had first arrived in Dale, and had made no effort to leave her side.

The Dwarf studied the young man from a distance, not liking at all how the boy had angeled himself towards Sigrid leaving an indecent space between them. She was too kind and too sweet to notice the smitten nature behind the young man's behavior. Fíli could see all too clearly the way the other man's eyes lingered on her when her attention was turned elsewhere.

When the boy dared to lay his hand on the curve of Sigrid's waist, presumably to steer her through the crowds, Fíli found himself on his feet and ready to remove the hand by force.

His quick movements caught Sigrid's attention and her gaze found his again. She sent him a smile that was, no doubt, meant to be reassuring and small wave of her hand before stepping out of the reach of her charge.

Fíli knew for a fact that she could take care of herself now, but that did not lessen his worry. The hearts of Men were known to be fickle and easily changed. What would he do if she were to choose the easy life the merchant's son could offer her over the uncertainty that was promised from a life with himself?

He had still been debating whether or not to stand by their plan and keep his distance or to take his chances with spiriting her away when the sound of horns blared throughout the streets. The Dwarves had finally arrived.

********

It was a small procession that crossed the valley from the Lonely Mountain to Dale. Most of the Men had already left by the time the Dwarves were ready to set out, leaving those of Thorin's company and a handful of Iron Hills Dwarves to make the journey. The mountain would be far from empty as a number of Men who had no family to visit had decided to stay behind to continue their training. Dáin and a group of his men, as well, had chosen not to attend the festival, not trusting to leave the newly reclaimed kingdom defenseless. It was a sound reason and one that Thorin had not been able to argue, though Kíli had been relieved when his uncle had asked a number of their own comrades stay and be watchful.

When they reached the gates of Dale, the young Dwarf took in the buildings they passed with a craftsman's eye and found himself impressed. From the looks of things, the repairs were near to finished and Fíli would be able to return home again soon. The thought was a welcome one and all ready he found himself feeling more light-hearted as they neared the sounds of music and laughter. This was what was needed; a reason for all to be merry. The people in this corner of the world could all do with a healthy dose of good cheer.

The crowd in the city square was thick with Men and, though tall for a Dwarf, Kíli could not see over the heads around him. A quick glance showed that Tauriel was all ready scanning the crowd. For an Elf she was quite tiny, her height on par with some of the Men, which he had no complaint with as that reduced the difference between them. Still, she was able to find her quarry easily enough and was soon leading him through the bodies around them.

Fíli had been easy enough to spot, standing on a chair as he was, and Kíli laughed as he closed the distance between them. His brother met him on the ground and they clasped forearms in a formal greeting, which lasted only a moment before Fíli had pulled him into an embrace. It had been a matter of days since they had last seen each other, but still, it was good to be together again.

When they parted Kíli stepped back beside Tauriel and gave his brother a good once over. He was surprised to see Fíli looking so well, considering how miserable his brother had looked the last time that he had seen him. "You look far too happy for the idiot I last took you for."

He had been expecting to have to search his brother out. He had believed that Fíli would be hidden away in a darkened corner, had he deigned to attend the festival at all. But here his brother stood, radiating happiness, and Kíli, while relieved to see it, still squinted at the other Dwarf as if to see the reason hidden on his person somewhere.

Fíli's smile turned just the slightest bit wicked. "I've decided to take your advice, brother." He cast a swift glance to Tauriel and Kíli gave the smallest of nods, a gesture to acknowledge that Tauriel knew of Fíli's secret. "I consider myself to be a happy idiot at the present." The blond Dwarf faced the Elf fully and bent into a formal bow. "You must forgive me my rude behavior the last time we met, my lady. I had not been at my best."

Kíli fought not to laugh at his brother. He looked up to find Tauriel smiling down on Fíli and being altogether far too proper. "Think nothing of it. We are to be family one day; your troubles are my troubles."

At her pardon, Fíli rose and offered to show them the city. Kíli shared a look with Tauriel before answering for them both in the negative. He was certain that his brother was bursting to show off his handiwork, but Tauriel did not hold the same love for stone that Dwarves were prone to. The settled instead at Fíli's table, content to pass the time just the three of them until feast began.

Kíli took in the area around them. "Still no Elves." He looked to Tauriel and laid his hand over hers. "Besides you, my love." He reached over to steal a few bites from the plate on the table, only offering a smile when Fíli slid it out of his reach with a mock frown.

"Go buy your own." His brother's laugh belied the petulant words. "Bard and Sigrid have both assured me that we shall not go hungry tonight."

"And how are the bowman and his family?" Tauriel looked almost reluctant to ask. Kíli could understand, after the reaction that she had gotten the last time she had inquired. But he knew, also, that she had grown quite fond of Bard's children in their short time together and he was glad when Fíli answered without a fuss.

"Well. They are all well." Fíli waved the hand that was sat on the table. "Bain is training with the garrison to become a soldier." At Tauriel's worried look he chuckled. "You shouldn't doubt him, he's working very hard to prove himself despite his age. Tilda is just as determined with her ladies lessons, but she and Sigrid find time each day to visit with us Dwarves." At this he paused and looked away. "I would say that nothing good can come from Sigrid and me, but every moment with her proves that wrong."

A cheer from the other end of the square broke the heavy atmosphere of the table. Kíli watched as full mugs began to appear throughout the crowd and he smiled. The wine had finally been unloaded and the kegs tapped. Now the fun could truly begin. He pardoned himself from his brother and Tauriel with a promise to return with drinks for all.

The sun had not yet set, but was sunk low enough to not shine on the middle of the city and with the stretching shadows came an increase in the chill. What he sought now was the best Dwarven remedy for any cold; inebriation. He was looking forward to seeing what his prim and proper lady-love would be like once she was well into her cups.

The crowd was not so thick or unruly that he had the fear of being trampled, and he was able to reach the kegs in a fair amount of time. He was on his way back, three mugs carefully balanced in his hands, when the horn sounded again announcing the arrival of the Elves.

********

Thorin could, in the privacy of his own mind at least, admit that the night had not been altogether horrendous. After the food had been unloaded and the feast begun there had been the expected squabbling between the his men and Thranduil's, but nothing had gone beyond petty bickering. The food had been excellent, even if it had come from Mirkwood, the wine was still flowing, and the music was lively enough to get his toe tapping. He could almost forgive Bard for setting the three kings at a table together.

By the time that Bard motioned to a man off to the side, Thorin had all but forgotten the last part of the festival. The Festival of Returns. He was surprised when two Elves stepped forward carrying a trunk between them. The table they sat at was raised on a dais giving him a clear view of what the lay inside. The weapons and effects that had been sacrificed when the Company had made its escape from the Elvish dungeon lay the large wooden box.

The Elf king was far too smug when Thorin looked his way and the Dwarf did not bother to hide his disdain when he spoke. "How generous of you to return what is all ready ours."

Thranduil raised a brow over a sardonic smirk. "Yes. It is, isn't it? I thought it a fitting gift, considering."

Bard motioned again, perhaps to keep the ceremony going, perhaps to stop the bickering that he was caught between.

The next chest brought forward was much smaller and carried by only a single Dwarf. At Thorin's nod the contents were presented, a pile of gems as bright as starlight, the white gems of Lasgalen. Thranduil leaned forward in his chair as if drawn by the light reflected from the chest. Another nod, and the lid was closed again.

Thorin sent a smirk of his own to the Elven king. He may have agreed to part with the gems, he had made no such agreement about being friendly.

Believing the exchange to be over, Thorin was caught off guard when Bard motioned one last time. A Man stepped forward, carrying a small object wrapped in a cloth.

Bard accepted the item before laying in front of Thorin. "And I return this to you, just as promised."

The Dwarf king pulled back the covering to reveal a familiar jewel, the Arkenstone. He reared back in his sit as if the stone itself would burn him. Even when he did not seek out the cursed treasure, it would seem that it still found its way to him.

His reaction caused a ripple of activity in those nearest but he ignored it all. He had eyes only for the gem in front of him as a mixture of fear and longing fought within him. He could hear little over the pounding in his ears. The stone had power, of that there was little doubt; but for good or ill, that was the question.

He was still debating whether to take the jewel in hand when the decision was made for him. The covering was folded once more over the jewel and Thorin looked up to see Balin watching him, Heart of the Mountain in hand. After all of the years he had known Balin, he still could not decipher the look on older man's face.

"I'll see that this is returned to its rightful place."

Thorin nodded, unable to speak. Now that he was no longer in the presence of the Arkenstone he could think clearly again. If he was still so affected by one small stone, perhaps he had not quite defeated the sickness that had weighed heavy on himself and his grandfather.

He did not dare to look at the Elven king, or even Bard. His response to the gift had been less than subtle and he did not wish to see the question on the Man's face or the knowing look on the Elf's. He heaved a hefty sigh and settled his shaking hands in his lap. The night could not last forever and he would find himself back within his mountain soon enough. For all that he had been feeling closed in as of late, he now found himself longing for the confining walls of his kingdom.

********

With the formalities over and done with, the night began in earnest. A small band from Dale had been playing through supper but a handful of Dwarves had joined them after and the music was in full swing. Tables had been moved to expand the area for dancing and Tauriel watched Kíli laugh as he swung a delighted Tilda around.

Tauriel herself had yet to join him on the floor. The tempo was much faster than she was used to, though not unpleasant to the ear. She had hoped to see her dearest friend, but had been disheartened to learn that Legolas had left the realm. King Thranduil had yet to look her way, and she hoped to end the evening with that unchanged. She could not imagine that an exchange between them would end well.

Tilda's whoop of excitement brought Tauriel's attention back to the dancers in time to see Kíli spinning the young girl around again. The Elf smiled and glanced to the man at her right. She followed his line of sight to find Sigrid dancing with the same young man that had been by her side all night.

"It would be far less painful to ask her to dance," she nodded in the direction of the couple that he was glaring at, "then for you to stand here grinding away your teeth."

Fíli seemed startled to have been addressed and his scowl lessened at the distraction.

"I have been warned to keep my distance for the night." His cheeks pinked just the slightest and had Tauriel not had such keen sight, she may not have noticed in the torchlight. "We are, maybe, a bit too obvious in our affections."

They both turned back to watch the crowd again and Tauriel was unprepared for the question that came next. "Have you and Kíli talked any about children?"

Her mouth opened to answer but no sound came out. She let her gaze travel back to her raven haired love, watching his interactions with Bard's youngest daughter. "I confess that we have not." Now that the thought was there, Tauriel wondered if a cross between Elves and Dwarves could even be possible. There were half-Elven, of course, but all those that she had heard of had been the product of Elves and Men.

Fíli nodded, perhaps in understanding, perhaps in acknowledgement. His eyes never left the form of Sigrid. "You should not wait too long. When lifetimes are measured so differently, a lifetime together does not hold the same meaning. It is a tragedy to waste what little time there is."

********

Kíli was certainly having a grand time, even if Tauriel had so far refused to dance with him. Tilda had taken to standing on his feet and they were keeping just ahead of the tempo, but no one seemed to notice or care. Even laughing and frolicking as he was, Kíli was sure to keep one eye on Tauriel. At first it had been rooted in worry, afraid that whomever was focusing on her in the mountain may have followed them here. Now, many cups into the wine, he was waiting for a moment of weakness, watching for any sign that his invitation to dance would be accepted.

She was talking with Fíli, and both were looking far too serious for such an event. When he was able to catch his brother's eye, Kíli gave a meaningful look to Tauriel and an expressive wiggle of his eyebrows.

Fíli lifted a brow of his own, having understood the unspoken request. He glowered back in response and Kíli stuck his tongue out at him. Rolling his eyes in an exaggerated movement, the blond Dwarf turned to offer his hand to Tauriel. She may have been able to rebuff all of his own requests but Kíli would wager that her good manners would press on her to accept the courtly invitation of his brother.

He watched as she hesitated. Fíli said something that caused her to smile and then the two were making their way into the dancing crowd.

"You should ask Sigrid to dance."

Tilda had been quiet for so long that Kíli had nearly forgotten that she was there.

"What was that?"

"Sigrid." She was laughing again and, if he had not known better, he would have thought there was a mischievous twinkle to her eye. "If Kíli is going to dance with Ms Tauriel, then you should dance with Sigrid. It's only fair and Brayden's a bit of a bore. I'm sure she'd love the excuse to take a break from the boy-sitting."

Kíli had to chuckle at that. "Boy-sitting?"

"Well, he's not a baby, but he does require a lot of attention." She had a smirk on her baby face, and continued in a loud whisper. "I confess that I left her to it as soon as I could find an escape."

There was a good chance that Tilda had been spending too much time among Dwarves and the thought made him smile all the wider. He looked to the couple in question. With Tilda's comment in mind, Sigrid's smile did seem a bit forced.

He looked back to the young girl in his arms. "You're sure that you don't mind?"

"I could use the break." She took on a weary tone. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

Definitely too much time among his kind.

With another laugh and a wink of his eye, Kíli twirled Tilda one last time before leading her back to her seat.

It was no trouble to catch sight of Sigrid again. She and Brennan were the only two stiff figures in a sea of flowing merrymakers. She seemed to be leading as much as the young man and the two were keeping to the outer rim of the crowd.

He gave the gentleman a tap on the shoulder. "May I cut in?"

Sigrid's delighted voice calling his name was overlapped by the boys response.

"The lady is taken for the evening."

It was a refusal and a dismissal all at once and Kíli found himself face to back with the boy.

He was more annoyed by the impudence than insulted. Then he caught sight of Sigrid's face and was saved the choice of whether to give the brat a lesson in politeness, or just toss him to the side.

She was livid, and Kíli could begin to see what his brother found so alluring in her.

The two were no longer dancing and she stepped out of the boys arms. "That's not really for you to say. That was very rude."

The boy, Brayden, lowered his voice, though not enough to keep from being heard. "Whatever are you talking about? He's just a Dwarf."

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say. Sigrid drew herself up to her full height, and though shorter than the young man in front of her, she still cut an imposing figure.

"He isn't just an anything. That Dwarf you just insulted is the nephew of King Thorin." She was spitting mad by this point. "He's a brave hero, one that I owe my life to, and he is my friend. Unlike, you who is nothing more than an irritating prig."

The smile on Kíli's face was almost indecent, he had enjoyed watching that so much. Sigrid spared neither of them a look as she stormed away. She did grab for Kíli's hand as she passed, leading them both away from the dumbstruck young man she had just dressed-down. He wondered how long she had been holding her temper that night.

He was still grinning like a loon when they slowed to a stop and he fought not to laugh at the horrified look on her face.

"What have I done?" She turned wide eyes to Kíli.

Had he been more sober he may have been a better comfort. As it was, all he could do was offer a shrug and try not to laugh.

She did not seem to upset by the lack of an answer, and he was grateful that the question had been rhetorical.

"What if he tells his da what I said? What if I've just ruined the trade between our kingdoms? Or- Or worse." Her words were speeding up as a panic began to set in. "You don't think this could start a war do you? I haven't been royalty for very long, I don't know how these things work."

He had started them dancing during her ramble, and shook his head now as they moved around the other dancers. "Nah. Trust me, I've been a prince, -ish, all my life. It takes more than putting a lad in his place to start a war. He'll probably be too embarrassed to mention it to his father, I wouldn't worry."

A mane of yellow hair caught his eye and he enjoyed the twitch of Fíli's eye when his brother saw Sigrid and not Tilda in his arms. Kíli raised a brow in challenge and was delighted to see narrowed eyes in return. Sometimes it was all too easy to sway his brother. The endless flow of wine might have played a part as well. Kíli was several cups behind both Fíli and Tauriel, as they had continued to drink without him once the music had started.

The brothers led their partners through the crowd, never missing a step as the distance between the two couples shrank. With a practiced move Kíli spun Sigrid away from his body and it was Tauriel that he drew back into him. He spared a glance for the other couple, content to see that the switch had been made successfully, before beaming up at the Elf in his arms.

"I told you I'd get you to dance with me." He did not try to keep the smug from his voice.

He was met with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. "You've done that before."

"Maybe." She was too tall for him to spin under his arm, so he spun under hers instead. "Once or twice."

She laughed at that, a sound without reservations, and he counted the night as a victory. He knew that life would always have its troubles, but so long as they could have moments like this one, he would gladly pay that price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could probably do with another read through or three, but I've taken long enough to post it. The festival was written as one ginormous piece and then broken into two so no waiting months for the next chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if an alert went out for Chapter 12 since there had all ready been a chapter 12. If not, here's your notice.
> 
> Also, the login server for FF.N is down so you're getting this a day earlier than the other sight where I post my fics, hehehe.

A life time together, and somehow Fíli could still be surprised by his brothers mischief. Somewhere between Fíli convincing Tauriel to dance and he and Kíli switching partners, his brother had made another swap as well. Instead of the expected cornflower blue of Tilda eyes, Fíli was met with the anxious pale blue of Sigrid's. The change in plan was not an unwelcome one, though he did have concern for whatever had caused his lover to worry as she did now. He lead them to the center of the crowd where they would be more easily lost and could move at a more sedate tempo.

“Are you all right?” He had not dared to hope that he would have the pleasure of her company that night. To have her in his arms and for her to be so preoccupied was a little disheartening.

At his question she released the lip that had been caught between her teeth and he was glad to see a bit of her disquiet fade away.

“Yes, of course.” The smile she offered was small, but he had hope of making it grow soon enough. “It's just that, this evening is not turning out at all as I had expected.”

“Nor I,” he sent her a wink, “though I will admit that I'm enjoying this change of plan.”

He took heart in the sound of her laughter, but still could not help wondering at the cause of her melancholy. Was she unhappy to have been taken away from the company of the merchant's son? The bashful look she sent him through her lashes would suggest otherwise.

A scheme crept up upon him and he took a moment to consider the wisdom of such a request. It would be risky, but not overly so. That night of all nights would be the safest. 

Having made up his mind, Fíli drew Sigrid closer to him and lowered his voice. “Come away with me.” At her astonished look he explained. “Just for the night. With all of the revelry and excitement no one will miss us until tomorrow.” He let the fingers of one hand feather up and down the skin of her arm. “There is no way of knowing when we can safely announce our intentions and I have no wish to wait that long to wake up beside you. Will you come away with me?”

The worry was back on her face and she scanned the crowd around them before answering. He began to fear that her answer would be no, but when she looked back to him it was with a mischievous smirk and a nod. His relief left him no room for wariness and he led her by the hand with as much speed as the dancing around them would allow.

**********

There was much on the mind of the King Under the Mountain, but revelry was not to be found among those thoughts. He looked down on the the carefree nature of the celebrants from where he sat and envied them their ability to forget the world, if only for a night. Even Thranduil had left his seat to mingle with the masses, but Thorin could not find it within himself to join them. 

His thoughts turned again to the Arkenstone, as they had been all evening. He did not dare have it mounted again to its rightful place above the throne, not while the very sight of it still burned him as it did. It was an easy thing to tell himself that his desire was simply to see the jewel of his forefathers safe, but the truth was far less noble. The Arkenstone was of the dragon's hoard now, and remained just as cursed as the gold that had nested the beast. To have the gem near to him would be more temptation than he could bear at the moment.

A full mug was set before him, the wine sloshing over the side as it hit the table. Thorin looked up at Bard as the man took the seat beside him. 

“You look like you could use a drink.”

The Dwarf king nodded his head in thanks but did not reach for the tankard.

“How are things in the mountain?” Bard's voice was that of a man trying too hard to make conversation. “My men aren't giving you any trouble, are they?”

Thorin took a moment to study the new king. He could not help but to be suspicious of the interest. The question that he fought with now was whether or not Bard's inquiry warranted such distrust. He could admit that the bargeman had been nothing but honorable during their early acquaintance, even when Thorin himself had not been. Unwilling to fall prey to the paranoia that had ailed him while he had been dragon-sick, Thorin pushed aside his skepticism and answered.

“The Men of Dale are hard workers and eager learners.” It was an easy truth to share. “They are no trouble, I assure you.”

Bard tipped his head in acknowledgment of the praise and raised his mug before drinking from it. “I am glad to hear that you've had no issues. I only wish that I could say the same for Dale.”

The comment brought a new concern to the front of Thorin's mind. One that he felt guilt for not having considered before. “Have you been having trouble with the craftsmen I've sent to you?” He had been so worried about removing Dáin's men from his own kingdom that he had not stopped to think of what that would mean for Dale.

“No. No, nothing of the sort.” Thorin was relieved to hear Bard's dismissal. “The hearts of Men are not as steadfast as those of your kind, though. We are quick to change and easily swayed.” Here the king of Dale paused to look into his cup and Thorin once more felt his misgivings return. “There have been rumors here, rumors I had hoped to put an end to before they could reach yours ears.” Bard set aside his mug and turned to face Thorin before speaking. “A number of the men who served under the Master had not settled well to their new lives in Dale. Men who had wanted more than what my kingdom has to offer.”

Thorin mulled over those words before answering; the spoken and the unspoken. “That is why you were hesitant to send anyone to Erebor?” His voice turned cold. “And you are telling me this now, why?”

Bard had the good grace to look away. “I had not wished to strain an already fragile alliance. I thought it best to deal with the matter first.” The king of Dale brought his gaze back to Thorin's and spoke the next with conviction. “The thirty who were sent to you are all men that I know well, those whom I trust. And now that the trouble has been dealt with, I did not wish for you to hear it elsewhere.”

There was no reason for Bard to have told Thorin about the matter at all, and the Dwarf was aware of this. There was a part of him that was angry to have been kept in the dark about a plot to take his home from him once more. But, he could also see the reason why it had been and the courtesy that had been extended in telling him.

He did not have the chance to respond, however as Bard's attention was no longer on him. The bowman, who's eyes had been scanning the crowd while waiting for the Dwarven king to absorb the new information, rose from his seat; a curious look on his face. 

Thorin followed the other man's line of sight in time to see Bard's eldest daughter disappear around a corner. Odd, but not alarming as she did not look to have been struggling. He let his gaze was drawn to a ruckus at the far corner of the masses. His eyes narrowed and he left his seat for the first time since the festivities had begun to make his way towards the disturbance, not waiting to see if Bard would follow. 

**********

The music was a steady beat pulsing through Kíli, the wine kept a low burn flowing inside of him, and Tauriel was all that he had eyes for. She was safe and happy, laughing and in his arms; until suddenly she was not. Her quick withdraw left him stumbling for a moment before his feet got back underneath him and then he was searching for whatever had caught her attention. 

One look over his shoulder brought all of the answer that he needed. 

Tauriel did not release his hand when she moved to stand before the Elven King. And while years of deference had her lowering her head, Kíli kept his held high.

“I was sad to see that your son could not join us for todays celebrations, my lord.” Her voice was steady, though her grip on Kíli's hand belied her nerves.

“Yes. I too have been grieved by his absence.” He paused, waiting until Tauriel raised her head to look at him. “My son has left the Greenwood.” His eyes traveled down her arm to where it was joined with Kíli's and let his eyes linger there. “The wounds that he suffered on the battlefield were not the kind to be dealt with by healers.”

Kíli's stern expression hardened further as Tauriel looked away. He did not like the Elven King and he most certainly did not like the way the man was talking to his beloved.

He met Thranduil's ice-like eyes and held them, trying his best not to snarl when the king spoke again.

“I see that one of them has claimed you as a pet. It pains me to see you reduced to nothing more than a Dwarven play thing.” Though his words were meant for Tauriel, his gaze never left Kíli's. “I would be willing to offer you sanctuary in my kingdom. You would hold no rank, of course, but how could I turn away a refugee such as yourself. Beg forgiveness and I shall let you return home.”

Tauriel looked up at that and Thranduil broke away from Kíli's glare to meet her eye. 

For a moment the Dwarf could not breathe. Her grip on his hand was still strong, and for that he was grateful, but his future rested solely on response. 

He held his tongue, for her, and only for her sake he bit back the words that fought to come out. Those that would name Thranduil as what he truly was; a smug and manipulative pile of troll dung. But if Tauriel wanted to go home, truly wished it, then this would be her only chance. He loved her. He was not sure how he would be able to live without her, but because of the love he held for her, he would try; if that was what she wished. 

That did not lessen the pain he felt when she pulled away from him to step forward.

“I have a home, and a family. One that you cannot take away from me. There is nothing you could offer that would cause me to give them up.” She stood tall and defiant before her once-king. “You asked me a question, the last time that we met. And my answer is yes. Forever yes.”

With that, Tauriel turned to leave taking Kíli's hand again as she passed him.

“How does it feel?” They both stopped at Thranduil's question, though Kíli would have gladly kept walking. “How does it feel to spend each of your days buried beneath the ground?” Neither Dwarf nor Elf moved to look back at the king, though her eyes had shut tight and brow furrowed as if in pain. “What does the future look like for you when you think of the long days ahead? Dark? Cold? And all too soon, empty?”

“That's enough.” Kíli released Tauriel's hand to turn back to her tormentor. He had stayed silent for too long while the Elf king talked but he would hold his peace no longer. “Tauriel isn't of your subjects anymore, you honor-less talking twig. She is a lady of Erebor now and you will speak to her with the respect that such a title demands.” 

A number of the king's guards stepped forward at his tone, and Kíli's hand moved on instinct to the handle of his sword. A sword that was not there, and he spared a moment to curse Bard for requiring his guests to disarm at the gate. The music had tapered off sometime during the exchange and all eyes were now turned to the standoff. The crowd was shifting, waiting to see what would happen next and Kíli was grateful when he glanced behind him to see that he was not alone. Dwalin was there and a good many other Dwarves that he could not name. Even without weapons it would be a good fight.

Guards or no guards, he would not allow his love to be treated like so much trash. “I believe you owe the lady an apology.” 

Tauriel called his name and laid her hand upon his shoulder. “That is not necessary. Let us go.”

He wondered if she understood how far past leaving they had gone.

A ruckus from the edge of the crowd showed Thorin and Bard pushing through the masses. Kíli watched as Thorin's quick eyes took in the scene; the smug look on Thranduil's face, the defensive way Kíli stood before Tauriel. He expected to be reprimanded, scolded as a child for threatening the tenuous peace between their peoples. Instead his uncle moved to stand beside him.

Thorin glanced up for a moment to Tauriel. “Are you all right?” At her nod, he focused on the regal Elf before them. “This woman is of my kingdom now and, for that, is under my protection. I'll not see her slighted by the likes of you.” 

Kíli could do nothing but stare, so great was his shock. Judging by Tauriel's silence, she felt much the same.

Bard was quick to step forward with words of peace, but neither king was willing to listen. Thorin stood glowering and glaring, looking every bit as if he were spoiling for a fight. 

Thranduil cut off Dale's king with a hand held in the air and all was silence as his voice cut through the night.

“I did not come here today to be insulted nor threatened.” He moved past where the Dwarves were huddled together, turning his back on them to address Bard. “I understand, of course, that you and your people are in no way at fault and I see no reason why our two kingdoms should not continue as we have been. But know this,” and his voice raised again to be heard by all, “any aid we send from the Wood will be for the Men of Dale. Should I suspect that my help is being sent beneath that mountain, it will end.”

He did not wait for a response before leaving, his long cloak billowing out behind him as he strode away, taking his people with him. 

The musicians tried to save the night by starting up again, but spell that had held strong all night was broken and the cold began to seep in again. As if to prove the point a dusting a flakes shook loose from the sky, clinging to whatever they touched. Kíli watched as Thorin and Bard exchanged a long look, before parting. 

It would be a frigid walk back to the mountain, short though it might be. Kíli was looking forward to nothing more than the warmth and safety of the chamber he shared with Tauriel.

**********

Even as the snow began to fall in heavier flakes, there were still gaps in the clouds to let the starlight through. Tauriel turned her face up towards their light, letting her eyes close as she walked and trusting in Kíli's hand to guide her.

Thranduil's questions about her future, about living beneath a mountain, had struck a cord within her, she could not deny it. Her only regret was that Kíli had seen her so affected by those words. She knew that he still feared that she would leave him, as absurd as the idea had become by this point. The thought that she should not keep him waiting to be married crossed her mind again. Perhaps then he would believe that she meant to stay with him forever. Or for as close to forever as they could have.

She opened her eyes as they passed the great stone sentries that stood watch over Erebor's gates and focused again on her surroundings. Kíli was trying his best not to look at her, a mixture of fear and longing on his face. Tauriel gave a tug to the hand that she held and a soft smile when he turned his eye towards her. His pain was her pain, and there was no question that he was hurting.

A mass of chaos awaited them when the party finally crossed through into the mountain. Tauriel wished again for a weapon when she saw armed guards lining the entrance. A mixture of Erebor and Iron Hills Dwarves were arguing in their midst; Dori and Dáin, the loudest of all.

It was Nori that slipped away to meet with them first and his words were rushed as he gestured towards her. “You need to get her outta here.”

The rest was lost beneath the booming voice of Dáin issuing orders. Tauriel heard her name in amongst the words, but even her Elvish hearing could not pick out the reason from the discord now filling the hall. The traveling party was swallowed by the turmoil, half of the Dwarves trying to get further into the mountain while a number of the guards were pushing their way through the opposite direction. It was not until multiple hands had seized her arm that Tauriel began to understand the seriousness of the situation. 

Kíli was pulled away from her by more men than he could hope to overcome, though that did not stop him from trying. It was Thorin's voice that brought the room to silence. His words were the harsh, cutting syllables of the Dwarven language and she was more than surprised to be hearing it from some one other than Kíli. 

The King Under the Mountain turned his wrath towards Dáin. “Think well on what you plan tonight, cousin.”

“Are ya scolding me for catching thieves for you now?” The large Dwarf was just as irate as the rest of them. 

“If you've apprehended a thief,” the king's voice was even and all the more frightening for it, “why do your men lay hands on my guest?”

The Dwarf lord turned to wave at someone in the gathering. “Bring 'im here.”

A man was dragged through to stand before Thorin and his company, one of the Men of Dale who had stayed behind in lieu of joining in with the festivities of the night. The man looked terrified as he cowered before the assembly; wide eyed and begging for mercy.

Dori spoke over the poor mans pleas. “I've told them that one mans testimony does not constitute proof.”

Tauriel watched the proceedings before her, unsure of what all of this had to do with herself.

The man was a blubbering mess and tripped over his words when Dáin ordered him to repeat what he had already told the others.

“It was the Elf, your king-ship, sir.” Tauriel's confusion mounted as he spoke. She was certain that she had never laid eyes upon the man before. “My daughter, ya see, she's sick. The lady-Elf, she promised to heal her if I brought her enough gold to travel with.”

Lies. They were all lies, but what could she say to show that? 

“Ya see?” Dáin was nearly glowing with smugness. “Ya never listen, but I told ya before. They're all the same backstabbing deceivers.”

Thorin was looking at her now and she could see him weighing his options. Whether he believed the other man or not made little difference. There was only one answer that he could give without losing face.

She met the kings gaze with a nod of acceptance. It would do her no favors to fight and she held no fear of the dungeons. 

“Escort the lady Tauriel to her former chamber.” It was the first time that she had heard Thorin use her name, she only wished that it had been under better circumstances. It was with resignation that he continued. “And my nephew to the cell beside hers.”

Tauriel's eyes cut fast to Kíli and they shared a single heartbeat before the chaos erupted again. She could hear Balin's voice arguing for reason and Dori trying to explain further what had happened, but their voices were as distant to her as those still in Dale. Kíli had told her of the condition for her freedom, that his fate was now joined to hers. She could only hope that the truth would be brought to light with the rays of the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the good news is that the next chapter is outlined very well. The bad news is that I haven't started writing it yet, so it'll be longer than a week for the next update.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to tone down the accents in the dialogue. It's easier to type, it's easier to read, and we're all going to hear it properly in our heads regardless. (And I was at a writing convention recently that talked about when writers do that and how bad and amateurish it is and now I feel silly for having done it.)
> 
> You have no idea how hard it was to write this. I finally gave in and watched Game of Thrones and all that I've wanted to do is read (write, though I've resisted thus far) Arya/Gendry fics.

The dungeons were just as quiet and uninteresting as they had been during Kíli's previous stay. The guards had withdrawn, though he could still hear their muffled voices, leaving Tauriel and himself to toil away the hours until morning on their own.

He spared a glance for the cot at the back of his cell before making himself comfortable against the wall by the bars. He could not see Tauriel, as there was a layer of thick stone between them, but he had little doubt that she was hovering nearby, just as he was.

There was so much to be said after the events of the night and he had little idea where to start. "I should have given you your gift before we left this evening." He was spoiling the surprise, but he had little care.

"Gift?" Her voice was as close as he had expected and he heard the rustle of clothe as she settled on the ground.

"A new set of daggers, to replace the ones you lost."

She was silent for a moment before speaking and he could imagine the smile on her lips. "Even armed, the out come would have been the same. Only now your gift would be in our jailers possession instead of waiting to be given." Her tone was patient and her argument reasonable. Even still, he regretted not gifting them sooner.

His shoulders rose in a shrug, though he knew she could not see it. "After all that's gone on as of late, I would rest easier knowing you had them."

"I do miss the weight of a blade in my hands," her voice was wistful. "I look forward to seeing these new daggers."

The sat in a comfortable silence for a time, listening to the faint laughter of the guards in the distance. Kíli could hear enough to recognize the game being played and it brought forth memories of his home in the Blue Mountains. He gave himself a mental shake. His home was now Erebor. It was easy to forget that he would not be returning to the home of his youth. In all of the travels that his brother and he had taken, they had always set their sights to the west of Middle Earth at the end, but on more.

His musing were interrupted by a hesitant question.

"Are you not going to ask me if it's true?"

The thought had crossed his mind and had then been dismissed just as quickly. Why would she risk stealing from the mountain and then refuse Thranduil's invitation? More than that, though, it was not in her nature to accept what had not been earned.

"Is it?"

"No." Her answer was quick and fervent.

"I know," he answered with a chuckle, "that's why I wasn't going to ask."

They lapsed into silence once more and he could hear her shifting. The sound of flesh sliding against stone crept closer to him and Kíli reached his hand threw the bars and behind. The wall between them was broad and if they had both been Dwarves there would have been no hope of reaching each other. But Tauriel's long Elven limbs made up for the difference and his hand found hers in the darkness.

Time would have passed more quickly if they had decided to sleep, but the excitement of the evening was still too fresh and Kíli had grown unused to having her so far at night. They spoke until his words began to slur and drift away from him and then continued long past.

The late hour and playful discourse reminded him of his time spent in the cell of Mirkwood and brought a smile to his face at the memory.

"You should move to the bed. You'll regret sleeping against the wall if you don't." Her voice was as reluctant as his inclination to accept and he noticed that her hand did not loosen its hold on his own.

"I'm good right where I am."

She was probably right, but he was too stubborn to budge.

He drifted off some time later, when the soft sound of her voice changed from words to song; the melody haunting in its beauty. He wondered, before sleep came to claim him, what her voice would sound like accompanied by his fiddle.

**********

When Thorin called for the trial to begin, an argument could have been made that night had yet to give way to the morning. But as he was king, and all ready in a foul mood, there was not a person in the mountain who dared enough to make such a claim. No one was safe from his glaring eye as they dragged weary feet through his door. All, except for the thief, who had somehow disappeared throughout the night.

Without the bandit to question a call had been made to find the leader of the Men from Dale. While they could not hold one man accountable for the actions of another, the hope had been to find answers to at least some of the questions at hand. And answers they received.

Yes, Rafe was a man from Dale. A bit of a troublemaker.

No, he was not counted among the most trustworthy of sorts.

But most importantly of all, the man had no daughter who had taken ill; no children to speak of whatsoever.

With that revelation the room had became a cacophony of noise as several voices tried to speak over one another.

Thorin did not try to stop the chaos, choosing instead to ignore it. He turned to where Dwalin was standing beside him, catching his friends eye before inclining his head towards Kíli and Tauriel. It was all the other Dwarf needed and he was across the room in quick strides.

Thorin rose from his seat and was still moving around his desk when the situation escalated.

"I'm done with these games." Kíli's voice was the one to bring about silence as the young Dwarf rubbed at his newly freed wrists. His eyes met Thorin's from across the room. "How many more times must he" here he gestured towards Dáin, "attack Tauriel before we say enough is enough?"

"Now wait just a minute." Dain's temper flared as hot as any forge. "How dare you accuse me of such deceit."

The boiling point was upon them and Thorin tallied friend and foe. Five of his own Company plus himself, the Man, and the Elf to Dáin and the two guards who had accompanied Kíli and Tauriel from the dungeon. Any easy fight if it should come to that.

Kíli, though much younger and smaller than Dáin, had stepped forward to poke the larger man in the chest. "She's been nearly smashed, poisoned, and now threatened with treason. I'm not accusing you of deceit, I'm accusing you of failed kin-slaying."

Before the words were finished Dáin was swinging a meaty fist. Tauriel, still in her gown from the night before, was still quick enough to pull Kíli away and the blow swung wide. Dwalin was between the two Dwarves before another move could be made.

The two stood toe to toe, Dáin heaving with confined rage and Dwalin the very picture of calm.

"I believe you've just worn out your welcome." All eyes cut to Thorin as he spoke for the first time since the fighting had begun. "The question is, will you go quietly now that your true nature has been revealed?" Dáin's only answer was a heavy glare over Dwalin's shoulder. "Or is your desire for my crown so great that you would risk war so soon after peace has been won?"

The Lord of the Iron Hills stepped back as if he had been physically struck.

Always the role of the peace-keeper, Balin was quick to interject, but any argument he might have made for a truce was cut off with a look from Thorin.

"You truly have gone mad." Dáin's astonishment lasted only a moment before his brows drew down again. "I don'na want your mountain. I have my own people to look after. Why in all the seven kingdoms would I want yours as well?"

Such a denial had not been unexpected. "Treachery has never been your chosen method, but I suppose a mountain of gold will change the truest of hearts."

Dáin looked as if he would swing again and Dwalin laid a warning hand on the man's shoulder.

"Gold? I'll get my fill of your gold when you need good iron to work with. You can'na make weapons from gold." Dáin shrugged out of the other Dwarf's grip. "Have you forgotten that it was you who called us here? You think you can hold this mountain with just the lot of you? How long before the next army comes marching?"

There was uncomfortable shifting among the others in the room but Thorin refused to let Dain's words affect him. "We did not need your help in retaking this mountain, nor was your assistance forthcoming." He closed the distance between him and his cousin and Dwalin stepped aside. "You wanted no part in our quest, if I remember correctly, and we have no need of your service now. Convenient that, to offer aid only after the dragon had been slayed." The last was spoken with a sneer.

"You want me and mine gone, so be it. I'll suffer this outrage no more." The ginger Dwarf moved to the door as he spoke, the two guards trailing behind him. He paused at the threshold to address the room at large. "May Mahal have mercy on you. The winter surely won't."

The sound of their footsteps trailed off down the corridor. Thorin had been avoiding the confrontation with Dáin for so long that he felt almost cheated by the ease with which it had ended.

"Good riddance." Kíli was the first to break the silence followed by a prompt reprimand from Tauriel.

All eyes were on Thorin awaiting his next move.

He turned his attention to the only stranger left in the room. "Your name?"

The man bobbed his head in a poor attempt at formality. "Sten, sir."

It was time for the Men of Dale to fulfill their part of the bargain.

"Gather as many of your people as have returned from Dale." He then turned to Dwalin. "Arm them and make ready for a fight. This has been far too easy for my liking."

The two nodded and left to make preparations.

Dáin had always been a stubborn man and the speed with which he had agreed to leave rang hollow. If his cousin wanted the treasure in Thorin's mountain, he would not walk away from it without a fight.

They needed more warriors.

Looking over the Dwarves that remained Thorin spoke next to Nori. "Take a ram before they are all gone and find me our kin. Follow the River Running south, the caravan from the Blue Mountains should be coming by way of the Old Forest Road and must be somewhere close. " He stopped the Dwarf before he could leave to add one more charge. "Find Bofur on your way out and send him for Fíli. His time in Dale is over."

**********

Light had all ready begun to filter into the room when Fíli opened his eyes. His lips curled up into a lazy smile when he saw that Sigrid was awake beside him.

"Good morning." Her voice was a whisper but did not hold the gravely edge of sleep to it and he wondered for how long she had been watching him.

He let his eyes drift shut again and reached his arm to wrap around her, rolling her to him so that her back was pressed to his front. Her delighted giggle caused his smile to grow even more and he buried his face into the hair in her neck.

"Fíli." She had wrapped both of her arms around one of his and she squeezed it now to get his attention.

Not wanting to accept the start of the day and what that would mean, Fíli answered with a noncommittal grunt and snuggled her closer. Her longer legs were tangled with his and he used the toes of one foot to tickle at the back of her knee.

They had spent the night in his room, relying on the distance from the populace of Dale to keep her whereabouts unknown and there had been little worry about noise at first. Now the other Dwarves would be back and neither wanted to take the chance of being over heard. Even with that in mind, when all she did was pull her leg away from his feet, Fíli was quick to move in with his hands, tickling her sides until she was shrieking in laughter and swatting at him.

He was most definitely awake now.

Propped up on one elbow and leaning over her, Fíli placed the lightest of kisses to the tip of her nose. "Good morning."

Sigrid was pink cheeked and still catching her breath. Her wide smile dimmed just a fraction as she stared up at him and her gaze took on a wondering gaze as she drifted her fingertips across his cheek. "I really do love you." At his raised brow she stuttered out a bit more. "That is to say, that I- Well, I did know that all ready. It's only that I hadn't realized... I don't know, maybe how much?"

He cut her off with a laugh and she looked both disgruntled and appreciative of the interruption.

In the silence that settled between them Fíli could no longer ignore the noise coming from outside. He looked towards the window, as if he could see what was happening without leaving the bed.

"That's what I was trying to tell you." Sigrid slid from their nest, taking one of the heavy blankets with her and padded to the window on bare feet. "Something's happening."

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. He tried to shake the ominous thoughts that followed, but they would not leave him. Thoughts that this would signal the beginning of the end, that if he looked at what was happening beyond their door it would only speed his fears along all the faster.

"Come back to bed." He tried to keep his voice light, to be playful, but he feared that he could only sound desperate.

He watched her silhouette outlined by the light of the morning, wrapped in nothing but the quilt from his bed. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Sigrid," he called to her again.

This time she turned to look at him. He was trying to smile, trying to hide his fear. Whatever she saw brought her back to him. She sat by his side to lay her hand upon his cheek and he closed his eyes and turned into her touch.

"I should go." He voice was whisper soft again, though with the noise around them there was no need.

She was right, it would be wisest for her to leave. But wisdom and he had grown apart during his time spent in Dale and Fíli pulled her back down beside him instead.

"Soon." It was a reassurance, but how he wished that it could have been a lie. He would have kept her there forever it were possible.

**********

Thorin had walked every hall in Erebor by the end of the day, or so it had felt. The calm that had fallen over the mountain seemed artificial in its suddenness. Dáin had stayed true to his word and had taken his men and left without so much as a scuffle. It was what Thorin had wanted, it had been unexpected, and it had left him feeling restless.

Those thoughts settled along side his newest revelation. The number within his kingdom had shrunk considerably, but that did not slow the gossip one bit. The tales had reached his ears soon enough and he was not sure what to do with them. One rebellious nephew he could deal with, but two he could ill afford.

Now he was standing in his study with Bofur stood before him, hat twisted in his hands and near to shaking in his boots. Thorin took the time to pour himself a drink, sure that he would need the soothing burn of the wine to deal with what was to come. He spared a thought of regret for not having sent another of the company to retrieve his sister's son. Anyone else would have been able to keep their mouth shut at what had been seen and he would not be dealing with impetuous youths when he should be planning for winter, or war, or both.

At length he turned to the waiting Dwarf. "Tell me of how you found my nephew this morning."

There was more twisting of the poor, abused hat. "I would, ya see, but it's not my place to tell it."

He had all ready heard the rumor, what he needed now was the truth of it. Patience wearing thin, Thorin glared at the man in front of him. "Tell me of how you found my nephew this morning."

Bofur averted his eyes before answering. "He and Bard's eldest, they were locked beard to beard."

The unexpected reply brought forth a scoff. "Human women don't have beards."

Cheeks unused to flushing without the help of a strong drink now burned a flaming red. "No, not on their faces they don't."

It took Thorin a moment longer than it should have to understand and he ignored the tell-tale heat of his own cheeks. The king took another long draught from his cup before dismissing the Dwarf before him and waiting for the next to enter.

In walked two nephews, where he had only called for one.

Piercing blue eye cut into the youngest. "This does not concern you. You can wait for your brother outside."

Before Kíli could open his mouth, Thorin knew what answer he would receive. "I think I'll stay."

Words from what felt like a lifetime ago echoed in Thorin's mind. 'I belong with my brother.'

He could have Kíli removed, but that would only further fracture a healing relationship. He could demand that the boy stay, but stay silent, but he knew how futile an order that would be. In the end, Thorin only inclined his head and accept the inevitable. He was beginning to understand what the wizard had meant about Dwarves and their stubbornness.

The king turned his attention to his other nephew. Fíli was standing at attention, head held high and hands clasped behind his back. The boy knew why he was there.

"Tell me about you and Bard's eldest."

There was silence a moment. Thorin could see that it was a reluctance to start more than a loss for words that held the boys tongue. He waited, letting the quiet draw out.

Fíli could not wait forever and eventually his nephew spoke. "She is my One and I wish to wed her."

Thorin was shocked by the bold statement and even Kíli seemed taken aback to hear the confession stated so bluntly.

The news should not have startled him as it did. Fíli had never been one to play lightly with the hearts of others. There was no anger in him at the revelation, only a bone deep weariness.

"One heir all but wed to an Elf, the other wooing a daughter of Man." He would have laughed if he were not living the joke.

His eldest nephew still would not look at him, keeping his gaze focused elsewhere. Kíli's hard eyes were defiant enough for both he and his brother. Perhaps the dissent he dealt with now was the price to pay for having been indulgent in his nephews upbringing. Perhaps he had over coddled the boys to compensate for the absence of their father. His sister had accused him of just that on more than one occasion.

The anger that had been absent a moment ago began to kindle. He was not the villain for wanting to uphold the legacy of his family. As far back as Durin the Deathless his line had been held to the highest of standards, trained to rule and forgo selfish desires for the betterment of their people. Had he not let the Hobbit leave for just that reason?

"It ends now." His voice left no room for argument.

Fíli said nothing, only closed his eyes as if in pain.

His brother, however, was as vocal as always. "What is it about a half-Dwarven child that frightens you so? Do you fear the blood of Men or Elves would be stronger than our own? That even one of Durin's line would not be 'Dwarven enough' to carry on our blood line?"

In truth, that was the heart of it, whether it was his fear or that of the Dwarf lords. "You know, as well as I, that any heir to the throne must be of pure blood. A half-breed would have trouble enough being acknowledged in Erebor; no child born of Man or Elf could hold a Dwarven throne." He laid a hand on Fíli's shoulder and tried to gentle his tone. "Even if you were to become king with Sigrid as your wife, any child bore between you would never be able to ascend the throne."

His nephew looked at him then with eyes so like his own. "And if she is already carrying my child?"

Thorin shook his head, dispelling the last spark of hope in the young man's eyes. "Let us hope that is not the case. Our kingdom would not survive the upset that would come with such news."

The reality of their situation was not kind and Thorin took no pleasure in bringing it to his nephew. Kíli had always been the rebellious dreamer with his head half in the clouds, but Fíli had been born to responsibility. There was little doubt in his mind that the boy would accept the truth of his words.

"You cannot do this." Kíli's furious voice cut through the silence. "You may have been too cowardly to fight for your One but we are not."

Thorin turned to his youngest nephew in outrage. He had never had cause to strike his kin, but in this moment the urge was strong. The idea that a mere child could accuse him of cowardice after all that he had sacrificed over the course of his lifetime left him aching with indignation.

Only Fíli's arm on Thorin's chest stopped the king from teaching his youngest nephew a hard lesson.

"If Dwarven heirs will keep the peace, I will provide them." The young man's voice was soft but steady. "But if I cannot have Sigrid, then I will have no queen. You cannot force me to take a wife."

Two sets of blue eyes met and held and Thorin understood that he could ask for no more. He had never wanted his nephews to live through the hardships that he himself had endured. He realized now what a foolish notion that had been. A king must live for his people first and always. It was the privilege and the burden of their birthright.

**********

The day was nearly over when Kíli made it back to his room. The anger at his uncle and disappointment in his brother had not lessened in the time that it had taken for him to reach the door. Only the sight of Tauriel, still dancing with her new daggers in hand, did anything to lessen his ire. As far as he could tell she had not set them down since first picking them up, and they flipped and twirled in her grip as she flitted around the length of their quarters. It was the smile on her face and the sparkle in her eyes that finally dispelled the last of his sour mood.

He laughed as she leapt to the bed, her newly made trousers allowing the action in a way a skirt would have hindered. The glow of her elation dispelled any aggression her posture might have otherwise implied and she slipped the blades away on her belt and fitted to his side when he sat on the bed.

They were both silent a moment in contented contemplation. At length she broke the quiet, her voice subdued and inquiring. "Was it as bad as you had imagined?"

His own words were just as muted. "Worse, I think."

Her fingertips traced swirling patterns on his sleeve. "Poor Fíli. Poor Sigrid."

He moved them so that he could lean against the headboard and she was curled around him, a position they had both become accustomed to. "I think he was hoping to get a babe on her before anyone found out. Probably hoping that Mum would be here to help." His tone lifted the slightest bit at the thought. "Not even the King Under the Mountain would be able to stand between her and a grandchild. All things considered, it wasn't a terrible plan."

Tauriel tilted her face up to see him and his eyes were drawn to the crease between her brows. She had become so much more expressive in her time within the mountain and he had come to appreciate every moment that he was able to bear witness to it.

"But if they are all ready married, there is nothing for Thorin to forbid."

He could feel his own brow scrunching to match hers. "They're not."

Her tone was dry. "Did you not just say that they were trying for a babe?"

He had to chuckle at the naive statement. "You don't have to be married to make a baby."

Again her brow was furrowed. "What other way is there then to..." Her voice trailed off and she made a vague motion with her hands.

His chuckle became a full-bellied laugh at her inability to speak the words.

"The usual way, I'd imagine," he had to shake his head at that, "but sex does not equal marriage."

Her cheeks were as bright as her hair by this point and all she could manage was a simple, "Oh," in response.

Kíli looked at her for a moment, and a thought sprang into his mind fully formed. "Are you telling me that in 600 years, you've never lain with a man?"

The reply, when it came, was indignant though her blush did not abate in the slightest. "I would not be here now if I had." She was silent a moment and then, "Have you?"

He nodded. "Once or twice, when the road was long and lonely, and my fair share of maids as well." At her scandalized look her felt the need to defend himself. "I'm nearly 80 years old, not a twenty-something child. My innocence was lost long ago."

It was a surprise when she pulled away from him. He had not realized how upset she would be at his revelation. When she unsheathed her daggers and started her pacing anew, the gravity of their exchange became apparent.

"Meleth nín (My love)." The foreign words felt clumsy on his tongue, but he wanted her to understand his sincerity. "This changes nothing."

Tauriel paused in her steps and offered him a glare but her blades never stopped their spinning. "Changes nothing? Do you not yet understand?" Her feet began again and she shook her head in irritation. "For my people, sex" and she still tripped over the word, "does, very much, equal marriage. How many times have you been," another pause, "married?"

He could only shrug. It would be impossible for him to give her a number, as he did not know himself. 78 years was young for a Dwarf, but still a long time to recount every tryst he had ever had.

There was a moments pause in which he wondered if this was an example of the cultural differences that his uncle had warned him about.

She seemed upset by his none-answer and Kíli tried to elaborate. "I've never been married, not by Dwarven standards anyway. And until I met you, I'd never been in love."

There was a measure of relief when she halted her pacing again and turned to look at him. He could see that she wanted to believe him and he took the opportunity to collect the daggers from her hands and lay them aside.

"I didn't understand." It was a poor apology, but as he had not done anything wrong, he thought it was a good compromise. "I swear to you, now that I've found you, there will be no one else."

He placed a kiss on each of her palms and looked up to find her smiling. It was faint and somewhat pained, but it was a start.

They curled back onto the bed and held each other in the silence, his fingers combing through her hair. 600 years was too long to be alone. He could not even begin to imagine.

As he thought more on the subject it did explain a great deal about Elves and their general frosty nature. If he had been forced to forgo pleasurable company for centuries, he imagined that he would be a bit uptight as well. Though, he was clever enough to keep that thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many people called for Dain's head after the last chapter. I hope you weren't too disappointed with this one. And with poor Fíli and Sigrid I imagine there are more than a few unhappy readers right now. But needs must.
> 
> I'm a big believer that Dwarves aren't uptight at all about same sex couples. When the ratio of men to women is 3:1, and not all women marry... I mean, come on. To expect nearly have a race to be celibate is just a bit too unbelievable, even in a fantasy world.
> 
> On that note, I had to add the Bagginshield. I just had to. When I first watched the movies, I had no idea that was a thing and I was really surprised that Kiliel was not the first, or even the second, biggest ship in Hobbit fics. My first thought was 'Can't two guys be friends without fans trying to push them into a relationship?' (Keep in mind that I've been into anime for more than a decade and boy/boy parings are so prolific you can wade through them.) My next thought was 'Huh, that sounds backwards.' And it's true. If one of them had been a girl, everyone would be shipping Bagginshield. Then I watched the movies again and yep, there it is. So, it's here, even if it won't be a focus. Deal with it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story started as solely Kiliel, but the Figrid has been steadily taking over. Maybe it's because they have more angst? I don't know, but I just realized that my Kiliel story isn't as Kiliel centric as I had thought it would be. Meh. There will be more Kiliel scenes, I promise.

The snows that had begun at the festival had not stopped since and a thick layer of white had spread itself over the north-eastern corner of the Rhovanion. From the top of Erebor's great gate the land before the mountain looked as desolate as Fíli felt inside; cold, barren, empty. Two suns had risen since his return from Dale and three suns had set. He had stepped back into his role as heir with the enthusiasm of a condemned man heading for the gallows; barely speaking and hardly eating. Even his brother had seen fit to leave Fíli to his misery. No amount of jesting or pestering could break the fair prince from his mourning.

His eyes stared out at the frozen ground surrounding his prison.

With so few bodies left in the mountain whispers of unguarded treasure were sure to spread and safeguarding the gate had become Thorin's highest priority. Which was well and good for Fíli as it gave him an excuse to seclude himself to the ramparts. He could always hear the others on duty, a Dwarf or two and a handful of Men, but so long as they let him be, he had little care.

Dale looked peaceful and content across the distance.

In the time since the mountain had been reclaimed Fíli had spent more of his days in the walls of that city than in the one that should have been his home. He let his eyes drift closed at the thought. He would never be home again. His home lay in the innocent eyes of his love, his hearth was her heart. With a sigh he pushed the poetic notion aside and hardened himself to his fate.

When he cast his gaze once more over the expanse of white it was to see a lone horse making it's way across the valley. Not an army come marching, or Dáin returned. This was a single rider from the city making good time to their gate.

He did not raise a call to his comrades, knowing that one of them would see the unexpected visitor soon enough and he tried not to let himself hope as he made his way down to the entrance. It could not be Sigrid, it would not be Sigrid, and even if it were, what would that change? But the thought of seeing her again, if only for a proper farewell, was too much for him to cast aside.

Long before the rider could be hailed, the broad shoulders of a man could be made out. The crushing weight of disappointment was lifted only the slightest when the face of Bard came into view. By then the others on the gate had come down as well and a runner was sent to inform the king. But it was Fíli that the man focused on when Bard swung down from his saddle.

A shadow of apprehension shivered through Fíli, much as it had when he had last met with Sigrid's father. Whatever punishment Bard wished to hand down to the man who had stolen his daughter's heart would have been well earned.

It was not hard fists or harsher words that came from the King of Dale, but a consoling hand to Fíli's shoulder and a short-lived squeeze. The look the man wore was too understanding and Fíli could not bear the weight of it. He turned his head away and blamed the stinging wind for any wetness that may have gathered in his eyes.

"Walk with me." Bard did not wait for an answer or give much of a choice before wrapping his arm around Fíli's shoulders and ushering them both into the mountain.

The voice of Bifur faded into the distance as the Dwarf led Bard's horse to the now empty stables. Fíli knew without looking that none of the others were following. He did not want to look at Sigrid's father again, an act of cowardice perhaps, or self preservation. He kept his eyes low and let Bard lead, though he knew the man had no idea where they were going.

They passed through an archway and into a long hall before Fíli was pulled to a stop. He could see boots turn to face him, but still could not make himself look into the other man's eyes. Stealing himself with a breath, he resolved to compromise and lifted his gaze to the far wall.

"My daughter is a strong woman." Bard's voice was not harsh, and Fíli wondered if bitter words would have hurt him less. "I have not seen her shed more than a handful of tears since her mother died, but I have heard her sobbing every night since you've left."

Fíli closed his eyes. There was the pain that he had been expecting and it was almost welcome after days of feeling hollow.

"I know that you are an honorable man. I have seen it myself and all of my children speak highly of you." Bard paused and Fíli forced himself to meet the other man's eyes. "And I have spoken to all of them these past few days." There was little doubt about the what the matter of subject might have been. "What I must know now is, do you love my Sigrid? Would you have her as your wife, as I have been led to believe?"

Hope battled with despair within the Dwarf but there was only one answer to that question. "Yes."

Bard relaxed a measure and rested both hands of Fíli's shoulders. "Then I would be proud to call you my son."

Whatever Fíli had been expecting, it had not been that. The hope within him that had been a guttering flame intensified before the reality of his circumstances returned.

"The king will never allow it." He felt like a boy again; wanting, and knowing that he would be denied.

"Let me talk to your uncle. One king to another."

There was one more squeeze to his shoulders and then Bard was making his way back to the entrance, no doubt in search of someone who could take him to Thorin. Fíli had the passing thought that he could be the one, but was too dazed to follow through. Instead he took himself back to his post and waited for Bard to return.

**********

It was not long after the messenger brought news of their guest that Bard found his way to the king's study. There were any number of reasons why the man might be seeking an audience with Thorin, though the Dwarf knew of only one that would be the topic of the day. Even with that certainty, the King Under the Mountain welcomed the King of Dale into his home as he would any ally.

There should have been greetings and formalities, but neither man seemed to care much for either and soon they were down to business.

"You're nephew and my daughter." Bard was the first to begin, cocking an amused brow at Thorin. "An unusual match, but one that makes them both happy. I understand the position Fíli holds and his responsibilities to his kingdom. They could not live in Dale, but would you be willing to allow Sigrid to join him here, as Tauriel has joined your other nephew?"

Thorin paused before speaking. There was nothing for him to think over, but he did not wish to insult the man by appearing to answer without care. "She is human and Fíli must continue the line of kings. There can be no place for your daughter here."

Bard's good nature bled away as Thorin finished, much as the Dwarf knew it would.

"Then let us speak as kings. I have seen the wagons going to and from the mountain." The swift change of subject brought with it a sense of unease to Thorin. "Without supplies from the Iron Hills, there is no food coming to Erebor. My people will bear this winter with little strain thanks to Thranduil and his good graces, and I would not threaten that assurance to help the man responsible for the sickness of my daughters heart." The man's eyes bore into Thorin. "But I would risk everything for my family and if Fíli and Sigrid were to wed, you and your kin would be counted among them."

The Dwarf king sat back in his chair, impressed and insulted all at once. There was little doubt that Bard believed that he had won this battle, but Thorin would not barter away the traditions of his people for a crust of bread. This felt all too like their meeting at the gate when Bard had marched on the mountain with an army and tried to call it peace.

"The hardships my people have endured are beyond your imagining. We have survived worse than empty bellies and there is plenty of ale to keep us warm throughout the winter." Thorin would not be bullied within his own kingdom.

"You would risk the lives of your people for pride?" Bard's brows had risen high in disbelief.

Thorin leaned forward again and let anger tinge his reply. "I would reject your offer as the blackmail that it is."

There was an argument on the tip of Bard's tongue, Thorin could see it, but the man held it back with a nod. "Then I shall help to you conserve what food you do have by reducing the number of mouths to feed. Let us have your Dwarves in Erebor and my Men in Dale and hope that all survive the winter."

There was little else to be said and Bard left in a mood more somber than his arrival. Thorin spared a moment for his piling regrets; to be able to give his blessing to Fíli and Sigrid, to not have need to alienate his nearest neighbor, to be able to put the lives of his men over the traditions of his forefathers.

But he was a king before a friend, before an uncle, before a man. He would not be the one to destroy the very foundation of their culture. He could only hope that Fíli could recover from this upset before further harm was done. He had never wanted to sacrifice his family to be king, but the longer that he wore a crown the more he felt that was the cost.

**********

The entrance hall to Erebor was nearly as frozen as the ground outside of the gate. The walls helped to block some of the wind, but much of the front of the mountain was open to the elements. The temperature did not bother Kíli so much, bundled as he was in furs. It was the empty stare of his brother that had been giving him chills as of late. He had thought that having Fíli home would be a gift, but to have his brother near and to still be so distant was a torture all of it's own.

His brother was not so blank faced now, as Kíli came to relieve him of his watch. Fíli was ever vigilant, his gaze sharp as he manned his post, not sparing a moment to acknowledge Kíli as he came up beside the other man. That, in and of itself was not out of the ordinary for the past few days, but Kíli could not help but to notice that his brother was facing into the mountain and not out of it.

Before he could ask what the other was looking for, Bard came marching into view, as silent and furious as Kíli had ever seen him. He watched as the two shared a look and the almost imperceptible shake of Bard's head. Whatever the gesture had signaled caused his brother's face to shutter once more.

It was not hard to guess at the reason for Bard's visit, or the hopeless look his brother now wore.

Kíli laid a hand on Fíli's shoulder, an act of understanding and support. "It's not too late to change your mind. Thorin is king, not you, let him deal with the affairs of the crown."

It was something of a shock when Fíli wrenched himself away from the touch and locked bitter eyes on his brother. "I have never begrudged you your foolhardy nature. Not once in all of our lives." His voice shook with barely held restrain. "I have fought the brawls you've started, protected you from friend and foe, and never, not once felt it a burden." Here he gave a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You have always done whatever you please with no regard for consequences. What I wouldn't give to have been born second and live my life so freely."

With nothing more to say, Fíli left the ramparts and made his way back into the mountain proper. Kíli could only look on with wide eyes. His brother's words had cut deep, more so because of the truth behind them.

He cast his gaze over the wall to watch as Bard crossed the snows back to the city of Men.

Foolhardy his brother had called him and an idea was beginning to take form within him; foolhardy and reckless and perhaps a bit mad. He spared a glance towards where his brother had disappeared.

The only person who might agree with his growing scheme would be Tauriel, but he did not have the time to find her. Kíli looked again at the receding figure of Bard and then to the new Dwarf just arriving on duty. With a smirk on his face and a swagger in his step he was quick to make his way over.

"Bofur, I need a favor."

**********

The library in Erebor was as vast and as full as Tauriel had imagined it to be.

The leaving of Dain's men and the Men of Dale had signaled a change in her daily routine. The patients in the Healing Hall had been dwindling steadily since her entrance to the mountain, but now there was no one left to tend and Óin had run out of items for her to catalogue.

Her newly acquired free time was spent alongside Ori, studying the ancient texts and tomes of Kíli's ancestors and trying to learn as much as she could about the culture that she was now a part of. Long hours and many days had shown her how little she had previously understood and how much she still had to discover.

A noise in the distance drew her attention and Ori paused in his translation when she looked away.

"What is it?" His tone was curious and unconcerned. His ears were not so keen as hers.

"Nothing, I'm sure." She flashed him a smile as she rose. "I thought I heard..." She was not certain of what she had heard and did not want to worry him without cause. "I'll be just a moment."

**********

Sleep had been a hard won friend for Fíli since finding himself back in Erebor. His chambers were too silent. Months spent camping in the wild and then his time in Dale had taught him to appreciate the sounds of night outside of a mountain.

Most of his free time was spent staring at a darkened ceiling and trying to reconcile himself with the life that now lay ahead of him. Often he would try to imagine what Sigrid was doing at that hour, where she would be. What sleep he was able to find was always fitful and haunted and waking brought him little relief.

He did not try to rest now, though he would be due back at the gate before long. Not after the up and down that seeing Bard had caused him. He had been sitting by the furnace in his room, gazing into the flame for longer than he cared to think on.

When a knock came at his door he was blinded for a moment as the phantom glow of the light faded from his vision. He should answer, he knew. He would not be sought out if he was not needed, but the urge to move would not come, and so Fíli stayed in his chair. When he heard his brother calling to him through the door he was glad for his decision.

It was not until a second voice called his name that Fíli found himself across the room.

The barrier was opened and the two ushered inside, but Fíli had eyes only for the cloaked figure beside his brother.

"Sigrid."

She lowered her hood and there were tears in her red-rimmed eyes. Without thought he pulled her into his embrace and she curled her taller frame around him.

Fíli looked in question to his brother and Kíli shrugged in the smug way that he had. "Foolhardy, like you said. I figured I could be foolish enough for the both of us." He paused only a moment before he motioned towards the door. "I should probably be getting back. Technically I'm still on duty."

Sigrid pulled away enough to turn towards Kíli. "Thank you."

With a nod his brother was gone.

Not relinquishing his hold on her hand, Fíli moved them to sit on the bed. His shock and elation at seeing her again was fading as the shock wore off and in their absence came heartache. He knew that he could not keep her.

"I have missed you." He turned towards her and pulled her into his arms. With both of them seated they were of a more equal height and he was better able to wrap around her.

She rested her head against his shoulder and spoke softly. "Do you think your uncle is right? That our union would hurt your people?"

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and let his hand rest against her cheek.

Her voice wavered when she continued and the sound of it hurt him to the core. "I've seen the way they look at you, I can't imagine a baby changing that. I thought they liked me. I know they love Tilda." She paused before continuing. "Perhaps the world has changed more than your uncle realizes?"

It was a hopeful sentiment, and more likely to be false than true, but he found that he did not care. Now that he had Sigrid in his arms again he did not think that he could let her go.

"Come with me." He rose from the bed, taking her with him, and led her by the hand to the door.

"Where are we going?" Her steps were swift beside him even as she asked.

"To see the king. It's time you were formally introduced to your future uncle." His statement gave her pause but a gentle tug had them moving again. "If we have to go all the way to Gondor, I swear I will be your husband soon."

**********

"The caravan will be here any day."

Thorin raised his head to look at Balin but did not remark upon the other man's statement. The departure of Bard's men from the mountain had left the kingdom as poorly defended as Dáin had implied that it would be. Not all had chosen to leave, but even with the few that remained they would only be able to barricade in for a siege and not fight off an invading force.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, a habit that he could not seem to break himself of. "How many men do we have?"

Balin's voice was as tired as Thorin felt. "The twelve of us, of course; until Nori returns with the rest; and about half of the Dalesmen." The old Dwarf gave a sigh. "It's better than we could have hoped."

The king stood from his desk to pace the length of his office. He had been sitting for too long; he needed movement, he needed action. There had been no sight of Dáin, his army, or anyone else's and the waiting was driving Thorin half mad.

"I can't help but notice the suddenness of Bard's request. Any idea as to why he needed his men back home so urgently?" Balin's shrewd tone left little doubt that his question did not need an answer.

It was impossible to keep a secret among Dwarves, even more so in close quarters, and while the mountain was extensive in it's size, the dwindling number of occupants had clustered together within it's halls. "It is no matter. If we have a dozen Dwarves and as many Men, then that is all we shall need."

The look he received from his friend and advisor was as strange as it was worrisome.

"What is it?" There was a sinking feeling in Thorin and when Balin answered it only grew.

"Not a dozen Men." The old Dwarf shook his head. "At least double that. We had nearly seventy from Dale to begin with."

Seventy from Dale and only thirty of them sent by Bard.

Thorin was at the door as quick as thought and his half-formed fears were confirmed when he found the door blocked from the outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is when things get real. Lots of action and we've talked about me writing action, so... no idea when that will get posted. I know what needs to happen, it's just the how that I'm struggling with.
> 
> We are so close to done with this story, I can't believe it. Writing this has given me the confidence to start an original story, which my hubby is thrilled about, so I'm splitting my writing time between the two. (*cough* three, GoT *cough*)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previous Chapter: Bard visits the mountain to speak to Thorin of Fíli and Sigrid's future. Thorin refuses and Bard recalls the Men to Dale. Kíli takes matters into his own hands, bringing Sigrid into the mountain to see Fili. Meanwhile, Thorin and Balin are discussing current events and it is brought to attention that more Men than had been sent by Bard had been living in Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies on the delay to any who are still following this story. The long and short of it: I got pregnant and between the hormones, fatigue, and all of the other fun stuff that comes with that, I have had zero creative spark. I have, however been able to beat this chapter together, albeit slowly, over the months that I've kept you all waiting. I hope that it lives up to expectations. There should only be one more chapter with epilogue and my hope is that, once Baby is born my creativity will return. Here's to hoping.

It was not lost on Fíli that he and Sigrid were creeping through the mountain like a pair of mischievous children. For a moment he was a youth again, slinking through a sleeping house with his brother, intent on sneaking a midnight treat. It had never worked, as their mother had possessed a near preternatural ability to know when trouble was brewing. They had always been caught, every single time. 

It was with that thought in mind that Fíli led Sigrid down one of the lesser used back stairways; ever vigilant for the approach of footsteps. Their caution was excessive, perhaps, as they were on their way to see his uncle; but the fewer who that knew of Sigrid's presence, the more at ease Fíli felt.

They had only just reached the level housing Thorin's office when a booming horn blast rolled over them.

Sigrid, who had all ready been on edge, jolted at the sound and her shriek of surprise followed the echo of the blaring noise down the hall. Fíli laid a steadying hand on her arm as she clutched at the fabric over her heart.

“What, in the name of all that is good, was that?” Her voice held only the tiniest of quavers and she ended with a shaky laugh at her own skittish behavior.

“An alarm.” His answer was short and conveyed his rising trepidation. He started them again in the direction of Thorin's door before elaborating. “It would seem that the mountain is under attack.”

In truth, he should have been heading for the main gate as a reinforcement. He should also have told Sigrid to go home the moment that he saw her again. There were a lot of things that Fíli should have been doing that he was choosing not to do.

When he found himself standing before a barricade instead of a closed door, he was certain that his uncle would not mind the disobedience this one time. 

Fíli turned to Sigrid, still huddled in her cloak, the hood drawn up to hide her features; as if her stature alone would not be enough to give away her identity to any prying eyes. If the mountain was indeed under attack, her being seen was now the least of their worries. 

He focused again on the tall pile of rocks that barred the entrance, looking for vulnerable points in the rubble. They were easy enough to spot and he began to clear the way as best as he could. Whomever had blocked the door had not had a sense for the earth, that much was certain. 

With Sigrid's help he could soon hear movement from the other side; most likely his uncle digging as well. After that, it was only a matter of time before the way was cleared enough for the trapped Dwarves to crawl through. 

It was less of a surprise for Fíli to find that Balin had been caught as well, than it was for Thorin to find that Sigrid had accompanied his nephew to their rescue. Fíli could sense the disapproval emanating from his uncle, but before the other man could voice any objections the younger Dwarf was quick to distract with news of the alarm that had been sounded.

Thorin's face twisted from censure to distaste in a moment.

“Not from without, but from within, no doubt. How desperate the mighty have become for Dáin to resort to Men for his dirty work.”

An unease filled Fíli at his uncle's words, overshadowed only by the sneer on the other man's face. Thorin's inference held the echo of mistrust that had been prevalent before the battle with the Orcs, when the Dragon Sickness had still held sway over him.

“Might we not even consider that this deception is not Dáin?” The ever patient tone to Balin's voice was stretched thin. “Even if he were to stoop to such a level, his pride would never allow him to seek help outside of our kin.”

Fíli watched as Thorin dismissed the reasonable idea. “That is exactly what he wants us to believe,” The King Under the Mountain began his way to the stairs, not waiting to see if the others would follow, “that he has had nothing to do with the unrest I have been dealing with since the reclamation of our home. And if we were to call on him for aid once more? His next betrayal would be our undoing.”

A hopeless look passed from the elder Dwarf to the young prince before both moved to follow their king. Sigrid's hand found it's way back into Fíli's and with that touch he felt his despair turn to resolve. He would not sit idle and watch as his uncle slipped back into madness once more. 

“Do you not hear yourself?” The outburst caused Thorin to turn back and regard his nephew for a long moment. “This is not Dáin. It has never been Dáin.”

Thorin's eyes narrowed. “What do you know of it? You've not been here to see his deceit play out.”

“No. I was living among his men; good men.” The young Dwarf let the words hang between them in challenge. “Good men do not follow bad leaders.”

The tension between the two was heavy and ever growing, but Fíli could not let himself back down. If his uncle proved to be unfit for ruling, if he had not completely overcome the sickness that had nearly brought them all to ruin, then it was would be his responsibility, as heir to the throne, to do what needed to be done. If Thorin could not be made to see reason, then Fíli would do his duty and take the crown from his uncle. He would be the king that their people so desperately needed.

Sigrid's lilting voice cut through his ever darkening thoughts. “Beggin' your pardon, sir,” and here she bobbed a small curtsey in deference to Thorin, “but, if the stories are true, there's enough gold in this mountain to tempt any Man.” She kept her head held high as she addressed the king, though her fidgeting hands gave away her nervousness. “It's not so much of a stretch to believe that they're here for their own gain.”

Thorin's eyes fell on the young girl for the smallest of moments before returning to glare at his nephew. Without comment he turned and continued his march to the stairs. 

A look was shared by those left behind before they too hurried their way down the hall. Whether the attack was led by Dáin or not could be debated later. First and foremost, they had a home to defend.

********** 

The sound of ringing steel ricocheted from every polished surface. Kíli could only spare a moment to be thankful for the warning that they had received. If not for the alarm that had been sounded he and Bofur would never have thought to look for an attack from the inside. Still they were fighting five-to-one and the odds were not good.

He dodged an incoming blow and parried another to block a third, all while trying to keep track of the chaos that surrounded him. They needed help, and they needed it fast.

**********

Tauriel paused for only a heartbeat as she reached the entrance to the mountain. The disarray that she had stumbled into was taken in at a glance, and though she had not uttered a word, Kíli's eyes cut to her as if she had called his name. His split second of distraction proved to be a dangerous one and Tauriel was in motion again as a sword was raised to her betrothed's back.

One of her new daggers flew through the air ahead of her to burying itself in the chest of Kíli's would be attacker. The man dropped to the floor with a shout of agony but she paid him no mind as she leapt at another of the intruders. The man staggered at the unexpected weight of her on his back and she used his momentum to pull him down and roll them both to the floor; the man pinned beneath her. He was of a considerable size and Tauriel soon found herself unable to hold him. 

Springing to her feet once again, she dodged the meaty grasp of her opponent and found herself back-to-back with Kíli. 

The tone of his voice suggested that a new argument was brewing from behind her. “What do you think you're doing here?”

The fighting paused as both sides regrouped and she used the moment to find Ori and Bofur, both still standing and trading blows with their own attackers. 

“Helping you.”

An unfamiliar word was muttered at her back. “You shouldn't be here. You don't even have any armour on.”

“There wasn't time.” He had a valid point, but she was in no mood to concede tho point. “Why don't you concentrate on the fight that you can win instead of the argument that has all ready been lost.”

The men surrounding them surged forward once again, and Tauriel forced herself to focus on the task before her. Fight, defend, and trust her allies. Anything less could do more harm than good. She could only hope that Kíli would keep his promise and do the same. Neither could afford to worry for the other; such mistakes could lead to fatal outcomes.

Over the shouts and echoing clashes of blades, Tauriel could hear the pounding steps of Dwarves approaching. And just beyond was the lighter sound of Men giving chase.

**********

They emerged into the skirmish as a pack; Thorin at the lead with Fíli and Balin flanking either side, but the tide of the chaos was too strong and it was not long before they had been separated. Tauriel was easy enough to find in the fracas, and Fíli knew that his brother would not be far from the Elf's side. A lifetime of habit pulled him in that direction, but he could not let himself follow the instinct. A quick glance was risked towards the doorway behind him, where he knew Sigrid to be hiding, before he dove into the fight.

It had been a near thing to convince her to stay back; that her training, as impressive as it was, did not make her battle ready. She had come a long way from the scared young woman cowering beneath her kitchen table, but even if she had been practicing for a decade, he still would not have wished her in the midst of the fray. 

Another unchecked glance towards Sigrid and Fíli was unable to bring his sword up to parry an incoming blow in time. Metal went skidding across stone as he lost the grip on his sword, too far to reach for quickly, and he rolled to avoid an oncoming blow. He was up and onto his feet within seconds; facing off unarmed against his opponent. His mind ticked through the options available: overpower and disarm, or circle around to find his lost sword.

With a surprised cry and a gurgling sound, the man before him dropped to the ground. Sigrid stood just behind where the man had been, bloody sword in hand and shaking. She would not raise her eyes to meet Fíli's; her gaze was transfixed upon the lifeless corpse at her feet.

He called her name, hoping to bring her back to the here and now. There was no time for shock, no time for remorse. She could fall apart once he had gotten her back to safety. 

Stepping over the man between them, Fíli tried to pry the weapon from her fingers, but her grip was locked; her fingers white around the hilt, much as they had been after her first night of practice. He tried her name again, not wanting to be too forceful while she was in so delicate a state. 

It was only at the last minute that Fíli saw the danger that they were both in. Her rolled their bodies as he pushed her to the ground, hoping that it would be enough. Fire sliced into his side and he looked down and into Sigrid's eyes; still wide, but focused on him once more. As darkness began to descend on his vision he could see her lips moving in the shape of his name, though he could not hear her voice. All that he could offer was a relieved smile that she had not been harmed before succumbing to the growing twilight that surrounded him.

**********

One by one the Men fell back or fell to the ground. Kíli had been lucky with Tauriel beside him, neither he nor she had suffered any major injury thus far. His eyes found his brother and Sigrid through what remained of the fighting and he watched in growing horror, as Fíli was cut down. For a moment, he could do no more than shout his brother's name.

Tauriel was moving before the shout had left him completely and was there, daggers in hand, before the Man could finish the job. 

Kíli crossed the distance behind her and pulled Fíli's body from it's prone position over Sigrid, freeing the girl from the weight. She was sobbing as she scrambled up to kneel over his brother's still form. 

“It's my fault,” her words were broken and stilted through her tears, “it's all my fault. He told me to stay back, but I thought that I could help him. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Kíli looked up to the Elf standing guard beside him. “Tauriel, can you…?”

She shook her head, never taking her eyes from the fighting that still surrounded them. “I don't have what I would need to do more than a field dressing.”

With a sinking heart Kíli set to work. His brother had been in plain clothes and his layers were easy to pull back. Tearing a long strip from the bottom of the bloody tunic, he pushed it against the jagged wound in his brother's side. 

Sigrid had quieted, though she did not seem any calmer. “Sigrid. Look at me.” He waited until he was sure that she would understand his commands before continuing. “You wanted to help and now you can. Keep pressure on his wound and keep that sword by your side. Use it if you need to. This will all be over soon.”

She nodded and they traded places. The tremors in her hands subsided to a degree as she pressed against Fíli's side. He hated to leave her as she was, hated more to see his brother bleeding out on the cold ground, but until the fighting was over, that was all that could be done.

**********

It had taken more time than Thorin would have liked for him to pick from the chaos which of their foes was the likely leader. By the time that he had closed the distance between himself and the man in question the number of invaders at the gate had all ready begun to dwindle.

The Dwarves may have been outnumbered, but not outmanned. 

Thorin's sword caught the light as it crashed against his foes weapon, blocking a downward swing aimed at an unsuspecting Bombur. Hard eyes met those of the Mountain King and the two focused on one another; assessing and calculating. He was tall, even for a Man, and swung his sword with a skilled hand.

“Did you truly believe it would be so easy?” The rumble of Thorin's voice underscored the fury held within him. “That once you were past our gate we would merely lay down our weapons in defeat?”

His opponent scoffed in derision. “You and your kind gave up any claim to that gold when you ran away and left us to deal with the dragon.” He swung at Thorin, punctuating each statement with a swipe of his sword. “It was your greed that called the beast, but Mankind was the one to suffer. It would be only fitting to add your bones to those who have died for the gluttony of Dwarves.”

Those were not the words of a mercenary, that much Thorin would admit. For the first time since the Orcs had been driven away, he began to question his convictions about Dáin. 

“Dale was not the only city lost that day.” The Dwarf pressed back against the onslaught and his doubts. “My people have suffered just as yours have. You speak of greed, and then threaten the newly forged peace between our kingdoms, and all for what? How much gold has my cousin promised you?”

The sounds of battle bled back in around them when the answer was slow to come. 

“Cousin?” A low rumble began in the man's chest before a humorless laugh escaped him. “I'd just as soon lick a wargs arse than work for a Dwarf.” 

“You lie.” But even as he said it Thorin could see the truth of the man's conviction. A moment passed, and then another as the consequences of this new reality ran through his mind. Not a Dwarf at all; not Dáin. In every instance of treachery that Thorin could recall there had always been a Man present. “You would threaten the newly forged peace between our kingdoms over a horde of gold?”

Spittle flecked the man's beard as he spit his next words. “It was a Man who slayed the beast, not a Dwarf. Keep your hollowed stone, but that treasure rightfully belongs to us.”

“You make it sound as if you, yourself, were the one to down the wretched worm.” 

Regardless of the motive for the attack, Thorin would not stand by and watch his home lost again nor let the cursed gold beneath them leave the safety of it's coffers. Spying a weakness in the man's defense, he sprang forward, sword cutting through the air. 

His opponent deflected the blow and threw himself into a new attack. The swings becoming more wild with each diverted stroke. That was all that was needed for Thorin to gain the upper hand. It was only a matter of timing and patience before the King Under the Mountain was able to knock the man to the ground and disarm him. 

“Yield.”

It was not a request and would not have been, even without Thorin's sword pointed at the man's throat. Nevertheless, there was defiance in every aspect of his opponent. Whether by stubborn pride or willful dissent, the man would never stop fighting; leaving Thorin with only one option to end the struggle. One way or the other, the fight would end this day. 

He raised his sword in preparation for the final blow.

The blade arced towards it's victim, careening off course at the last moment as a hard shove from behind caused Thorin to stumble.

He caught himself in time to see another of the Men pulling his intended victim along by the arm before the two disappeared deeper into the mountain. What remained of the invaders were scrambling to follow their leader, leaving the Dwarves to a moment of reprieve.

**********

As the last of the fighting dispersed Tauriel was able to take in the damage that had been done. Many of the Dwarves were leaning heavily on walls or weapons. As hardy a folk as they were, to be so outnumbered had worn them down.

By instinct her focus fell to Kíli; uninjured, but in distress. She followed after him as he rushed back towards where they had left his brother. Sigrid still stood guard over the fallen Dwarf, one hand pressing into his wound, the other held in a tight grip on her sword.

The others had begun to notice their fallen comrade and by the time that Tauriel had crossed the distance they had moved to crowd around Kíli and his brother. She could see the rise and fall of Fíli's chest, but the pallor of his skin was a cause for great concern. 

She crouched beside Kíli, searching the crowd for the familiar face of their healer.

“Where is Óin,” she asked the group at large.

There was no answer and a quick head count showed that two of their numbers were missing, the Dwarf in question and his brother Glóin.

“Kíli, take your brother to the Healing Hall, find Óin.” Thorin's orders were quick and decisive. “Ori, Bombur; go with him, make sure the area is clear of unwanted guests. The rest of us will route out the vermin from our home.” 

Tauriel looked to Kíli, wanting to stay by his side, to keep him safe, but knowing that her skills would be better put to use in the hunt. As the others moved to obey, she had only a moment to decide.

Her hesitation did not go unnoticed. A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and she looked up and into the hard face of Dwalin. He nodded his head once in the direction the others were heading before turning to follow. 

It was a small gesture, but spoke volumes of her place within the mountain. She looked once more to Kíli as he stood with his brother in his arms. They shared a quick look before he was off; Ori, Bombur, and Sigrid at his heels. 

Tauriel rose and began to follow as well, but paused at the last moment and turned to join the hunting party. She would be of little benefit to Kíli and his brother, but of great assistance to the others. If ever there would be an opportunity for her to prove herself to the Dwarven king, now would be that time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could edit and nit-pick this chapter for ages more, but that would not have been fair to you guys. So, it is what it is. I've got about two weeks until Baby is born, so no idea when I will start the next chapter or how quickly it will be written. I'll try my best not to let it be another eight months.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I cannot apologize enough for how long this has taken to come out. I've lost the thread of the story, I can't hear the character voices anymore, and writing now is like pulling teeth. I do still have my outline and I will try my best to not be so long with the next and final chapter. Here's hoping that this one lives up to expectations. 
> 
> Summary so far: Erebor is reclaimed. Tauriel is living in the mountain and she and Kíli are betrothed. Fíli has fallen for Sigrid and she for him. Thorin is still fighting the aftereffects of Dragon Sickness and has mistakenly alienated Dáin because of it. The threat in Erebor has been uncovered, but it was Men and not Dwarves who were at the center of it. In the fighting that ensued Fíli was gravely injured and remnants of the insurgents have fled into the mountain.

It took little time for Tauriel to catch up to the others, her legs being much longer than those of Dwarves. The crash of their running feet rang through the halls as they followed the trail of their quarry. Though much of the mountain was still untraversed by her, Tauriel recognized the route that they traced as nearing the stores of Erebor's vast wealth. 

The stone walls funneled the sounds of the Men back to them; shouting and banging. When the last defense of the mountains treasure came into view, Tauriel could see that the large doors were still shut and holding. The would-be thieves were throwing themselves bodily at the door and shouting obscenities to the Dwarf inside. 

Glóin's voice, though muffled, was loud enough to reach the Elf's ears, daring the intruders to breach the doors and meet their doom.

A number of the Men gave up their effort as Tauriel and the others drew nearer. Bifur and Bofur broke off from the group to confront those foolish enough to stay behind; still hammering at the door while the rest of their compatriots raced deeper through the tunnels.

Down further they ran, to the depths of the mountain, through the Hall of Gold and into the Great Forge. The Dwarves had cornered their prey at last; there was no place left to run. 

“Throw down your weapons.” 

Thorin's voice filled the empty space of the vast cavern. 

Tauriel stood tense, daggers at the ready, to see what their foes would decide. Any child of the forest knew well the lesson of how dangerous a corned animal could be.

The largest of the group stepped forward. 

“You think that you've won? You think that we will surrender to you?”

There was no humor in the kings voice when he answered. “Only if you choose to live.”

All eyes were on the exchange, waiting for the first sign of aggression. 

A breeze lifted the ends of Tauriel's hair and drew her attention to the far end of the room. There was another exit, an open door carved into the side of the wall; and she was not the only one to notice.

“We choose to live.” And with that the Men turned as one and ran for the new escape. 

Tauriel sprinted after them, but Balin's voice called her back.

“Leave them.”

She turned at the words, confusion plain on her face, but obeying all the same. 

Dwalin and Dori moved past her to close the door the Men had just run through, together they lifted a great iron bar from the ground and sealed the exit. 

“I don't understand.” The unexpected end of their chase left Tauriel confused and full of adrenaline. “Why are we letting them get away?”

Dwalin's usual grimace lifted into a smirk. “There's no 'getting away' to be found in there.”

As they moved back towards the entrance, Tauriel turned her question to the eldest of the Dwarves. “What is beyond that door?”

“Only death.” Balin shook his head sounding somber. “Smaug was not the only creature to claim the mountain in our absence.” His voice turned thoughtful as he continued. “It is strange, though fortunate for us; I had thought all of the entrances to the mines to be sealed.” 

Tauriel could not help one last glance behind her as they left. She could not be sure if the far off scream she heard was real or a conjuring of the images Balin's words had brought.

**********

It was a new experience for Kíli, standing at the foot of his brother's bed instead of sitting beside it; or occupying the next one over, for that matter. He watched as Sigrid smoothed a stray lock of hair from Fíli's sleeping face. Óin was puttering around the infirmary, having done his best to tend the prince's wound. The old Dwarf had missed the fight entirely, having not heard the call to arms and the ensuing battle.

“I am so sorry.”

The watery sound of Sigrid's voice pulled Kíli's attention back to her. She was no longer focused on his brother, but was instead directing her apology to him.

“You've nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes fell to Fíli for a moment before returning to the shaken girl. “This isn't your fault.”

With alarm, he watched as Sigrid dissolved into sobs again. 

“But it is.” It was hard to make out her words through her crying, but he understood her meaning. “I wanted to fight, to prove myself.” She shook her head. “He wanted me to stay hidden, and I didn't.” She looked to him as if for absolution.

Stunned by her reaction at first, it took a moment for Kíli to make his way around the bed and to her. She was still watching him and he took her free hand into his own.

“This isn't your fault.” His tone was unyielding. “Blame the man who stabbed him, or the ones who caused the fighting.” He forced his tone to lighten. “Blame Smaug for taking the mountain in the first place, or whatever the reason that has delayed our reinforcements.” 

She looked to the floor, but her tears had slowed down. 

“Of one thing I'm sure,” he continued, “my brother will not blame you in the slightest.”

And it was true. Whether her actions had been foolish or not, Fíli would hold no ill will towards her, of that there was no doubt. 

When she raised her eyes again, though they were still wet, the tears had stopped. She sent him a soft smile and turned back to watch her charge sleep. Seeing that his brother was well cared for, Kíli made his way to the end of the hall. At the door, he turned to lean against the wall, taking a page from Óin's book and giving the two some privacy.

It was easy enough for Kíli to forget about his own mortality; he rarely considered that he might die when charging into a fight. Seeing those that he cared for in such peril was a bit harder, though still not as unfamiliar to him as he was sure it was for Sigrid. He could only imagine what her guilt would have been if Fíli had not survived.

It was a strange thought that came to Kíli as he watched Sigrid with his brother. Baring some unforeseen tragedy, she would never know the pain of losing Fíli. His brother would outlive Sigrid by more time than they would have together. Would a few short decades shared be enough to see his brother through the century or more of life without the woman he had grown to love?

There was a short-lived moment where Kíli was relieved to know that he would not suffer through a life without Tauriel before the realization of what he was condemning her to sunk in. He could finally understand what it was his uncle had been trying to make him see, what felt so long ago. It would not be a single century that Tauriel would be alone after his passing, not two, or three; how long was the life of an Elf? She would be a widow in mourning, left only with the memory of him and their life together. Could there be any children between them? He'd never heard of such a thing. Would that child inherit her lifespan? Or would she be forced to watch their children grow old and pass as well?

He wondered, for the first time, what life would be like for Tauriel after his passing. What kind of existence was he condemning her to? He looked at Sigrid and his brother and fought against a guilt of his own.

**********

Though the threat had been dealt with, the Dwarves and Tauriel did not dawdle on their way back to the gates. Tension still lingered in the air around them and as they neared the entrance, the sounds of heavy feet could be heard. More feet than Tauriel knew had been present in the mountain that morning. The party as a whole sped up, preparing once more to defend their home.

As they reached the entrance Thorin raised his sword and those around him followed suit. As tired as they were, they would not go without a fight.

“You'd best sheath those swords before you make a fool of yourselves.”

An admonishing voice boomed through the cavernous space and what momentum the Dwarves had been building dissipated. 

People of varying shapes and sizes were making their way into Erebor; all but one, the short and stocky build of Dwarves. 

A smaller figure broke away from the crowd. There was something familiar about that particular Dwarf that caught Tauriel's keen eye; the mischievous quirk in the smile, the confident swagger in the walk. It tickled at the Elf's mind.

She watched as the newcomer closed the distance between their two groups. “Is this anyway to welcome friends and family?”

As if the rebuke had been a catalyst, the swarm of new bodies rushed forward to swallow Tauriel and the Dwarves into the midst of a happy chaos. Even Dwalin, the gruff old goat that he was, had a smile on his face.

This must be the caravan that had been so long anticipated. 

With that thought came a jolt of something foreign to Tauriel, a feeling of uneasiness and apprehension. Somewhere in that hall was Kíli's mother. 

She was pulled from the thought by the sound of her name. The Elf looked up to find Bard making his way to her. 

He kept his voice low when he spoke, though with all of the ruckus around them there was no need. “Have you seen Sigrid? She is nowhere to be found within the walls of Dale.”

Tauriel gave a nod. “She is here, above, in the Healer's Hall.” At his stricken look she rushed to clarify. “Sigrid is well. It is Fíli who is in need of care.”

“What's this?” 

Tauriel turned towards the new voice to find the same Dwarf who had been so outspoken earlier. 

“I look for my boys and find this instead,” a hand darted out to indicate Tauriel's temples and the betrothal beads that lay there, “and now I hear my other son is hurt.” The Dwarf turned to address Thorin. “You have quite a bit of explaining to do.”

“You should know better than any other how headstrong your children can be.” If Tauriel had not know better she would have thought Thorin to sound defensive.

“Your sons?” With Bard's worry abated somewhat the confusion was plain in his voice. “Sigrid told me Fíli's father had passed on.”

“And so he has,” the Dwarf who could only be Dís gave Bard a wink. “I'm Fíli's mother. It's a miracle that your kind have survived for so long without being able to tell the difference between lads and lasses.” 

“My apologies, madam,” Bard began, but his awkwardness was waved away with a laugh.

“Now, let's go find your wayward daughter, and I shall see my sons.” Dís linked her arm with Tauriel. “And you and I shall have a chat.” 

A sour looking Thorin was left behind to deal with the rest of the new arrivals.

**********

Being near to the hallway gave Kíli the advantage of hearing the coming group before they entered. He stepped through the doorway to see who was coming and had not been prepared for the sight that met him. The shock of it pushed his guilty thoughts from his mind.

“Mum!” He rushed to meet her and she broke away from the others to catch him in a bone crushing hug. 

When they pulled back she rapped him soundly on the head. “I told you to be careful. What were you thinking rushing off on your own in the middle of a battle. And letting yourself get wounded like that, I thought that I had taught you better.”

Kíli turned his eyes to Tauriel, full of mock betrayal, before cutting off his mother as she made to continue. “It's not as bad as all that. I'm fine now; fit as a fiddle.” He beat a fist on his chest in demonstration.

His mother gave him a knowing look but was distracted by the sight behind him. 

Sigrid was still at Fíli's bedside, too focused on his sleeping form to have cared about the fuss headed her way. It was not until Bard called her name that she took note of them.

“Da!” She stood to meet her father as he pulled her into a relieved embrace. “What are you doing here?”

He released her before answering. “I could ask the same of you,” his eyes darted to the figure lying in bed and then back to hers, “but I believe I all ready know the answer.” 

Sigrid kept her eyes locked to her father's. “I love him, and we're going to be married. Whether his uncle allows it or no.”

Kíli looked to see his mother's reaction. He knew that there was no way for her to have missed Tauriel's braids and he wondered at how she would take the news of both of her sons rebelling against tradition.

Bard did not answer Sigrid, but turned to indicate the only one there that his daughter would not recognize. “This is Fíli's mother, the Lady Dís.”

Sigrid's face flushed red and her mouth opened, but no sound came out. 

Dís turned to address Kíli. “I see there's more than one tale to tell here. Start at the beginning, if you please.”

**********

The group as whole had settled into the infirmary, seating themselves in the empty beds around Fíli. Tauriel hid a half smile as she listened to Kíli relive the adventures that had brought them together. His tales had been much more harrowing when he had first portrayed them to her. She wondered if he had been exaggerating before for her benefit or was now abridging them for his mother's sake.

Her wandering thoughts were brought to an end as he recounted their events in Bard's home. She could feel Dís's eyes upon her and could not stop the flushing of her cheeks.

“I see you've stolen my boy's heart and ruined him for any proper Dwarf lass.” The words themselves would have been harsh, if not for the warm tone. “He always did have an eye for the exotic.”

Kíli's hand in her own gave a gentle squeeze. 

“She is the reason that I was able to keep my promise to you.” At the lift of his mother's brow, he clarified. “The rune stone.” Kíli turned his gaze to Tauriel as he spoke to his mother. “She used it as a weapon; was able to throw it hard enough to knock the Orc's blade off target.” His look shifted from smitten to proud as he returned his attention to his mother. “I was still run through, but it was nothing so bad as it could have been.” He finished in the quiet voice all remorseful children use on their parents. “The rune stone is gone though; shattered, or lost among the ruins. Sorry Mum.” 

Tauriel bit back a smile at the thought of her brave warrior as a misbehaving youth. 

Dís rolled her eyes at her youngest son and addressed Tauriel instead. “Perhaps you'll have a better time keeping him in line then I have.” The lady Dwarf huffed a laugh. “Though, I doubt it.”

A rough voice spoke into the moment of silence. “I thought I was meant to be resting? Could you maybe keep it down?”

As one, they all turned to focus on the still figure in the bed. Blue eyes twinkled back at them; groggy, but awake.

Sigrid was still sitting beside Fíli and not the presence of her father nor his mother had changed that. She pulled his hand up to lay against her cheek and held it there with her own. The touch was simple but somehow intimate and Tauriel felt almost shameful for watching.

She turned her attention instead to Kíli. It was the first time since the fighting had ended that they had been in the same room together and she had the brief thought to be thankful that it was not her Dwarf that lay wounded in bed. She had seen enough of that to last her a lifetime, and for an Elf, that was saying quite a bit.

“I believe I've heard enough for now.” The matriarch stood and made her way to the empty side of Fili's bed, smoothing the bedcover and sharing quiet words with the her eldest and his sweetheart. Then, in a whirl of movement and voice, she began to bustle everyone out of the room, leaving Fíli to rest and Sigrid to tend him. Tauriel hid a smile as the other woman linked arms this time with Bard. 

“Has your daughter started on her gown yet?”

The sudden question seemed to hold no meaning for Sigrid's father. “Gown?”

“For the wedding.” Tauriel could not see Bard's face, but his frame stiffened as he walked.

“Ah yes; that.” He hesitated a moment more. “Perhaps you and should visit the king before I leave for Dale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This shorter and more rushed than I would have liked, but I am desperate to post a chapter at this point. Thank you to anyone who has hung around long enough to read this. My wish is to post the final piece before the end of November. 
> 
> You have SapnkingHalo's fic 'Midnight' to thank for the completion of this chapter. That story has 15 chapters spread out over 9 years and it is well worth the wait for the next one. It's Draco/Hermione, for anyone that's interested in reading it. I found it very inspirational, as you can tell by this chapter actually being posted.


End file.
